


Lucky Guy

by thecookiemomma



Series: Scion of the Merlin [3]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony catches his first case as a Wizard still working for NCIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tony ran his hands over his pockets again, making sure of his inventory. This was their first case after the geas had been lifted, and Tony was extremely nervous.

 

“C'mon, DiNozzo, stop preening, and get in the car.” Gibbs whacked him solidly on the back of the head.

 

“Yes, Boss,” Tony winced, standing up straight. He should be ready. He had enough chalk and other small bits and pieces in his pockets to handle almost any emergency. Between his arcane ways, McGeek's Techno ways, and Gibbs just being Gibbs, he figured they'd be okay. Besides, Carlos _had_ brought his mother's stone to him. Every family had handed down a few things to their wizard-children, and one of those things was some sort of map or description of the Ways. He'd heard rumors of one that was pretty much complete, but since Elizabeth hadn't practiced much after she'd married Senior, her 'map' was a lot less comprehensive than it could have been. 

 

“Got all your thingamajigs, Tony?” Gibbs gave him a look that on the outside was stoic, but when Tony looked at his eyes – _god, his eyes_ – he was laughing at him. 

 

“Yes, Boss, thank you boss.” He glared back, his eyes saying 'Shut up' in the only safe way he could. He got into the car, and the team sped away to the crime scene. 

 

* * * 

When they arrived, they found their dead body laid out in a strange manner. The young woman was laid flat, arms stretched wide, legs spread apart. She was covered, but his gut told him that was recent. He stood back, just looking, taking in details. His sight and hearing worked slightly differently now that he knew he'd have to catalog the information without technology. It was like his magic was making up for it. “Boss, hold off.” He gestured to Ducky starting to roll the body to get the liver temperature. 

 

“Why, DiNozzo? You know liver temp's the first thing we do..” Gibbs wasn't angry, and the rest of the team just looked confused. 

 

“Let me... let me do something first.” He knew he was going to hate this, but it looked like he needed to. _Dammit._ He sighed, braced himself against the tree, and forced open his Sight. He focused on the body, and pulled his sketch book up to capture the images he saw, even though he knew _he'd_ never forget them. All along the ensign's body, there were cut marks. They weren't visible outside of the Sight, but he knew what he was seeing. “She's … It's happened before. She knew him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She enjoyed it, mostly. He just got too angry. He ...” He didn't realize he was talking until Gibbs' hand rested softly on his shoulder. “Ducky, go ahead, and um, rape kit. Actually, do that first, if you can. Since...” He gestured to the sky. “It's almost sunset. And if I'm right, it won't stick around after sunset. Which means, we're looking at something ...” He forced his eyes closed. “Fuck.” He turned and threw up. “It's not Whites. Whites wouldn't leave her out like this. They'd just drink her dry. Which leaves faeries, or good old fashioned Warlocks. Fuck.” 

 

By this point, Tim and Ziva were staring openly, and Ducky was pursing his lips. “Anthony, you didn't need to do that. We could have discovered it through other means. I don't want you to damage your psyche for every case. I've heard stories of ...” 

 

“Yes, Ducky. I've heard all the stories, too.” Tony brushed off the old man's concern, and sighed, looking up at Gibbs. “It's probably a really good thing I have my Gray Cloak, Boss. This looks like more my jurisdiction than yours. We can run it through here, and get what we can, but … I'm gonna have to do a few things...” He spotted a small piece of plastic. “Of course.” He gestured to the article. “Look. I know you want this for testing, and I can let you have it, but can I use it first?” 

 

Gibbs looked into Tony's gloved hands. “Gonna compromise the evidence?” He considered what Tony had said, and frowned. “Don't like sharin' jurisdiction, Tony. You know that.” He held out an evidence bag, waiting for Tony to drop the used condom into the bag. Tony held on to it a little longer. “You let me try to catch this bastard, and then you can?” 

 

“Doesn't work that way, Boss. He's a … he's – you remember me talking about the Gray Cloaks? He's one of ours. Well, not technically one of _ours_ , but one of … shit, boss, you know what I'm tryin' to say? If the perp was a marine, you'd want to get him, and be sure to get him, because he needed to be tried by the UCMJ. Well, this guy needs to be tried by us. Fourth Law, probably, by the looks of things.” He gestured with the empty hand, the hand not holding the condom. “And, of course, the First Law. Well, the possibility of the First Law. Think about that when considering COD, Ducky, please.” He gazed over at the bag. “I gotta use it first. I have to think about how to do this without contaminating it. Because standard procedure would contaminate it, so …” 

 

McGee had had enough. “Tony, what the hell is going on? And why can't you tell us... and what's all this about one of yours, and laws and ...” 

 

Gibbs stepped up to his defense. “McGee, I understand what he's sayin'. Let it go for now. If you need t' know more, we'll tell you.” 

 

“Boss ….” Tony drew the word out. “I can't ...” 

 

“We'll figure somethin' out, Tony. They're gonna have t' get used to the whole thing. If you're gonna help us, they're gonna see. You could tell 'em about yourself. Didn't you say your buddy had an ad in the yellow pages?” 

 

“Yeah, that's true. Sort of sidestepped the whole issue.” He snorted. “But Harry had balls the size of donuts, Boss.” He chuckled. “Probably why he's …” 

 

“Yeah, and you don't, DiNozzo?” Tony turned away to hide the flush at Gibbs' words. 

 

“If we have to, I'll tell 'em later. But for now, I have to figure out how to do this. Sight, sound, smell...” He groaned. “Smell. That's the only one that'll not mess it up. I mean, I could do sight, but .. that'd just be nasty.” 

 

“What's it take, DiNozzo?” Gibbs sounded interested. 

 

“A sample, Boss. A small sample. If it was … taste, for example, I'd taste the substance, and then I could tell where to go from there. It'd be like a taste was leading me there. Now, that's not an option with this, because we need this bad boy to get sampled...” 

 

“She wouldn't need all of it. You could use a little swab... Just not taste. What about sight?” 

 

“I'd have to swab it onto my sunglasses.” Tony grimaced. 

 

“Need a cheapo pair for that.” Gibbs grinned. “Especially when you're spreadin' spunk around on it. That's what you're doin' right?” He snorted. “Gonna mess up your fancy clothes.” 

 

“Yeah probably. It gets almost as down and dirty as evidence collection.” He sighed. “You got an extra pair of cheap ones?” He looked among the team. They all shook their heads. “The things I do for the sake of justice.” He sighed, and pulled out his $200 sunglasses. He swabbed a little semen from the condom and swiped it on the glasses. He bagged the rest, and handed it off. “Okay, Boss. Gimme a moment, and I'll track what I can. Here's my sketch. It's not of what you can see, but it's honest nonetheless. Mark it with the M sticker, and it's still admissible, I think.” 

 

“What is an M sticker, Tony?” Ziva was taking pictures of the dead body quickly before Ducky tested the liver temperature. 

 

“Part of what we'll talk about later. G'wan, DiNozzo, and figure out what you can from that. McGee, sketch.” Gibbs returned to the task he could do, the empirical, _physical_ evidence. 

 

* * * 

Tony followed the red line that came from the magic. He was a little grossed out by using sperm for the tracking spell, but was glad that he could use it to look, instead of having to smell or taste it. That would've been nasty. _But,_ he mused, _I would have done it._ He got into the car and drove, following a path that drove straight to a house. He pulled out the communication stone, speaking the words in Old Norse to activate it. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” He waited for a moment, hoping Gibbs had remembered his stone and then, he heard Gibbs' voice. 

 

“What ya got, DiNozzo?” It made him feel all warm inside that he answered just the same as he did when they were on the phone. 

 

“Tracked him to a house here on...” He relayed the address. “Gonna clean my glasses and wait for you to finish there at the crime scene. You might not be able to help with the … heavy stuff, Boss, but a Sig'll still go a long way with a wizard.” He grinned. 

 

“Well, duh, DiNozzo. We'll be there in ten.” Gibbs started to talk to someone else, and then spoke up again. “Hey, DiNozzo, how do you turn this damn thing _off_?” 

 

“Just will it off, Boss. Think of the link slamming...” Dead air. _He figured_ _ **that**_ _out quickly enough._ Tony rolled his eyes, and set the stone back down as he began cleaning his glasses. 


	2. Chapter 2

It did only take about ten minutes for Gibbs and the rest of the team to arrive. He had stepped out of the car, leisurely, examining his tires, as though he'd heard something funny while driving. It gave him an excuse if someone came out of the house. When the other blue sedan pulled up, stopping sharply enough that two of its occupants whacked their heads against the seat, Tony chuckled, and stepped over toward the rest of his team. “I don't know if the guy's  _ here _ , boss, or even if it's his place. But it's singing. Like a canary. I don't know how we'd connect the dots, if we have to. Not sure about the M-rules on this one. Since it's data collection, but not really admissible.” 

 

“Then, we'll have to back up whatever we get with stuff that _is_ admissible, DiNozzo. And you need to brush up on all that stuff. What you can do to make it admissible. If it qualifies as exculpatory like my hunches, or if you gotta make some sorta case for it.” Gibbs was gearing up, and directing the other two to the back. “C'mon, Spunky.” He chuckled at his own joke. 

 

“Boss,” Tony whined at the stupid pun. “We're going in the front, right?” 

 

“Yup, DiNozzo, s'what it looks like.” He nodded toward the door, opening it slowly. They cleared the lower rooms, and then started their way upstairs, the four of them moving in synch like they'd always done. Tony was hanging back a little bit, gauging the space for the thrum of the magic. 

 

“Boss, something's here, but it's ...” He couldn't put his finger on it, but it worried him. “Something's hinky, Boss.” He glanced around. “Don't want to open my Sight, but ...” He frowned, thinking. “You still have a little coffee in your cup, Boss?” 

 

“Yeah, DiNozzo, why?” Gibbs looked around, trying to see what Tony was feeling. 

 

“I'll buy you a new one when we get back to the yard.” It might work. 

 

“What the hell you gonna do with my coffee, DiNozzo? Nobody said anything about breakin' Rule 23.” Gibbs didn't look too happy and Tony winced. Tim and Ziva stared at him like he was crazy. 

 

“Well, I …” He frowned. “I might be able to do it a different way.” He sighed. “Take a little more power. If I do this, I'll have to find some way to recharge if our guy comes barreling through. But, I suppose I can do it to avoid breaking Rule 23.” 

 

“You do that, DiNozzo.” Gibbs looked around. “Alright, you two, start lookin' to find out who this guy is, and whether he's our perp.” He reached into his pocket to pull out a pair of gloves, and began searching the house, leaving Tony alone again. He shuddered at that, and followed closely behind the boss. “You got somethin'?” Gibbs asked, unsure of how this process worked. 

 

“No, Boss, other than this gut feeling to stay right beside...” He cut off and pushed Gibbs to the floor as a whirling metal thing came flying toward them. “Well,” he muttered, rolling off his boss, ignoring his body's commentary on the situation, “rules out Fae, doesn't it?” 

 

* * * 

 

They didn't find anything, other than an old book which Tony insisted they wrap in cloth before touching – even through gloves, and a box of a few things Tony was going to get Bob to identify. “Boss, can I ride back with you? Let the Probie and the Probette take the other car? I got somethin' I need to run by you...” He chewed on his lip. 

 

“Yeah, DiNozzo. Save us time.” Gibbs grabbed the box of components, and headed toward his car, Tony right behind him. “McGee, David. You heard 'im. You take the other car back.” He gazed intently at Tony, until the other man remembered, and pulled the keys out of his pocket. 

 

“Catch, Probies!” He tossed them directly between the two of them, watching to see who'd reach out and grab them first. This time, possibly expecting the move, Tim grabbed them just before Ziva could. Gibbs just rolled his eyes at his team's antics, and strode around to the other side of the car. 

 

“Get in, DiNozzo, we're burnin' daylight!” He grumbled, and started the car. 

 

Tony lowered himself into the car, shifting the seat a little for comfort, and buckled his belt. “So, Boss, I was thinkin'. This being a warlock and all, would you mind if Carlos came back and helped us? Sinc he's gonna have to help me deal with him anyway.” 

 

“Deal with him? What's to deal with him? We lock 'im up, send 'im off to Leavenworth.” Gibbs pulled into the left lane sharply, pressing down on the gas. 

 

“No, Boss. Not for a Warlock. He gets the snickersnack.” Tony laughed at his own joke. “Sorry.” He backtracked quickly at Gibbs' harsh look. “Right Boss. Won't happen again.” He frowned. “The Laws say that a Warlock gets swift and sudden justice.” He drew his finger across his neck, making a cracking sound. “Hence the sword. Since we use swords, it negates the whole First Law, or something.” He muttered to himself, but figured Gibbs could still hear him. “Nevermind that it usually breaks about 20 Mundane laws.” 

 

“Why do it, then?” Gibbs wanted to know, swerving into the middle lane to avoid an eighteen-wheeler. 

 

“Because – Look, Boss, the Fourth Law. A lot of Warlocks get caught for messing with peoples' minds. They can make it seem like everything is hunky-dory. That yeah they really did present the prosecution's case, and it stunk. Or, they can make people think that their defense was airtight, that dirtbag-boy really did sleep with pretty lady that night, so there's your alibi. So, the easiest way to take care of it, the only way, really, is to cut it off before he can really do serious damage.” He gazed straight at his Boss. “Look. One guy. One fuckin' guy got into the White Council, and over a period of a few years – well, that's relative in wizard terms, Boss – but over a period of a relatively short time for a wizard, he had infected the minds of all the young apprentices, including our Warden Captain. He'd gotten Harry's supervisor, too, though with him, he apparently capitalized on his burnout. He managed to take the whole damn council apart with a couple of quickly spoken trigger words and some mordite.” 

 

“Mordite?” Gibbs sounded unsure about everything Tony was saying. 

 

“Um, it's a black crystal thing, I think. I've only read about it. It's basically 'death crystal.' You ever see the Harry Potter movies, Boss?” 

 

“No, DiNozzo.” He was starting to get impatient. 

 

“Well, in the Harry Potter movies, there's this spell called 'Avada Kedavra'.” 

 

“Abracadabra?” Gibbs swerved into another lane again, preparing to take an exit. “Sounds like somethin' kids used to say to each other...” 

 

“No, Boss, Avada Kedavra. Anyway. The name of the spell isn't important. What's important is that the spell could kill you. Just get hit with the beam, and you're dead. No signs of trauma, no needle pricks, no nothing. It just basically stole the life outta you.” He made a poof noise, emphasizing his point with his hands. “Anyway, so, with just a few well spoken words and some of this Mordite, Peabody basically broke the whole fuckin' council of wizards. So, that's why I don't feel too badly about executing warlocks. Because they can't be tried. And we all know it. If you know anything about magic, if anyone has taught you anything, you hear this. Even the paras know.” 

 

“Paras?” Tony heard a slight tinge of regret at even asking the question, but apparently he wanted to know. 

 

“Paranormals. Means they've got some talent, but not enough to go completely White Council. Usually means they're a one-trick pony. One skill. Like I know this one lady who can read any language instinctively. They think she's a basic polyglot, but she's not. She can't speak the language, and can't understand it spoken to her, but she can translate anything. She's in high demand at the State Department, Boss. They don't understand _why_ she can do all this, but she's been proven correct so many times that it's not even funny. She translates all day long. To her, it's just copy-work.” He snorted, gesturing again. “I thought it was crazy, but turns out she has a daughter – magic usually runs in feminine lines. Sallic Law, Boss – and the kid's a Council level wizard.” 

 

“They don't call 'em witches?” Gibbs sped up a little, passing another car. 

 

“No, witches are a certain type of para, actually, Boss. Which is weird to me, but that's just how it goes. Anyway, all this to say, should I call Carlos back? He could be here within ...” He looked down at his old analog watch. He'd had to pull out his grandfather's watch, and remember to wind it every day as part of his morning ritual. “Well, he knows the Ways here...”  


“Flights aren't that easy to get, DiNozzo, or that cheap. Can't ask him to be flying...” Tony risked cutting him off.

 

“Boss, Wizards can't fly in airplanes. Too many electronics. One wrong wire fire, and we'd be responsible for a hundred and fifty dead. We take the Ways.” He grinned, and explained before Gibbs could ask the question. “S'like Narnia. Surely you know Narnia, Boss?” 

 

“Yeah, read the first book.” 

 

“Well, you know how she goes into the forest at one point, and comes out in another place, well, we do that, except it's through the Nevernever. Kind of the – spiritual frosting on the physical doughnut, Boss. It's there all over, except we can't see it unless we open it up. I've got a map, but it's not very good. It does know this area really well, because my mum used to use the ways to go shopping. But I'd have to ask around if we have to go somewhere that requires planes, and I don't have it on my map. Carlos'd tell me, or I could ask my Grandfather. Well, worst case scenario, Boss. You and Jack talk more often than Granpere and I do nowadays.” He looked down, fiddling with his comm-stone in his hands. 

 

“Why, Tony?” Gibbs sounded genuinely interested. 

 

“Bad blood between him and Mum, mostly. He wanted her to marry a wizard, have wizard babies. Mum's mum was a – well, she wasn't a warlock exactly, but she was kind of like Dresden. I think that's why Granpere didn't like him so much. He reminded him too much of his own kid. She was – well, Boss, the word around was that she was a spitfire. She'd take the Laws of Magic, and she'd find the loopholes. She never killed anybody, but she liked to see how different kinds of magic felt, to the point of severe pain. I think she drove one guy to madness. He'd agreed to be her lover if she could – test on him. Mum wanted nothing of that, and so she stepped completely away from the world. I was going to, but I wanted to keep my options open. Kinda glad I did. If I hadn't, I don't know what I'd do now. The magic I haven't been using over the years is starting to build up, and if I don't use it for little things, I don't know what would happen. They don't bind somebody's magic on a whim. I think they did it to avoid me becoming another Dresden. Raised by his normal dad, in a tough situation...” He shrugged. “Somebody killed Dresden's dad, sure as fuck, or I'm not a cop. At least Senior's still alive.” Whatever that was worth. 

 

“Geeze, Tony.” Gibbs frowned. “Sounds like being a wizard isn't safe.” Tony snorted at the understatement. 

 

“Well, it is, mostly. Except for the parts where magic gets capricious and decides we've been around too long, or a spell or a potion goes odd. Oh. Potions. I need to make a few this weekend, I think.” He frowned. “Have to talk to Bob.” Sotto voce. In a normal voice, he continued. “Being a wizard is awesome, Boss. But the culture kind of makes up for the fact that we have this power. There are a few things that are just crazy about us. It's one of the reasons most wizards are portrayed as maniacal bastards, or wise and wizened old sages who live on top of mountains and ride eagles off to battle.” 

 

Gibbs snorted at that one, Tony felt a surge of pleasure at making his Boss laugh. That little tingling from his magic started again, and instead of cutting off the feeling, Tony let it go. He immediately regretted it. 

 

He closed his eyes, and let the pleasure just roll off him. He couldn't help but groan. The images and feelings coursing through him were near-enough impossible. 

 

“Something wrong, DiNozzo?” Of course, Gibbs would notice. 

 

“Not – wrong, Boss. Just kinda dealin' with my magic telling me things.” He lifted his arm to cover his eyes, and to prevent himself from reaching over and grabbing the man beside him. He noticed they'd arrived back at the Navy Yard. “So, Boss, should I call 'Los, or not?” 

 

“Yeah, DiNozzo, give 'im a call. But you both follow _my_ lead, got that? I don't care if you have to … do whatever to get him off the streets, but this is my case.” Gibbs turned fiercely intense blue eyes on him, and Tony shuddered, trying to shake off the pleasure that they carried in the pictures in his mind. 

 

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself after Gibbs left the car. “Lucky fucking me.” He stalked back into the Bullpen, his magic still singing happily about how he could be living happy and blissed out in Gibbs' bed. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony got a hold of Carlos, and it took him about two hours to walk through the Ways. “Woulda taken a lot less longer, 'mano, but I ran into a malk. They're kinda pissed Harry's gone. All of Winter is.” 

 

“You speak of the Faerie Courts?” Ziva spoke up. 

 

“Shit. She doesn't know about the Council, but she does know about the Fae. Of course.” Tony muttered just loud enough for Carlos to hear. 

 

Carlos laughed loudly. “Ahhh, seniorita. Yes. I speak of the Courts of the Fae, Seelie and Unseelie alike. And whatever's happened to the 'Za Lord's Guard. Harry had his own faction starting to build. It caused a leetle power struggle when he took on Winter Knight.” 

 

“He really took on the mantle?” Tony gawked. “I thought he said he never would?” He hadn't ever met Harry personally, but he'd made it a point to find out about this guy. He was a trendsetter, and even his grandfather noticed it. Likely another reason he hated him. Of course, the main one was his big fucking mouth, but Tony empathized with that, too. 

 

“Did. He had to. To save his baby girl.” Carlos nodded. 

 

“Well, shit.” Tony pulled a chair over, and gestured to it “'Come into my parlor', said the spider to the fly.” 

 

“More like I'm the spider and you're the fly, 'mano. Ok, what's the deal? You got black magic, si?” 

 

“Si. Sex magic. I'm not sure, but there might've been a bit of breaking of Rule 4, as well.” 

 

“Secrets?” Tim was confused. 

 

“No, sorry, my fault. I should say, The Fourth Law. 'Thou shalt not enthrall another.' Don't fuck around in someone else's mind.” 

 

“You can do that?” Tim looked scared. 

 

“I _could_ do that, Probie, but what part of 'don't break the rule' don't you get?” Tony tossed a small rubber ball into the air, catching it again. “Besides...” He cut his tirade off, and let out a wolf whistle. Standing in front of him was a tall, buxom young lady with blonde hair, streaked with red here and there. Not a natural, dark red, but this bright, candy apple red. “Wowza.” She was wearing a mini-skirt and ripped tee-shirt, and combat boots. It put Tony in mind of Abby, except when she was trying to get laid. 

 

“Wizard Anthony DiNozzo, meet your apprentice. Apprentice Molly Carpenter, whom I specifically told to wait outside until I got approval for you. How'd you do it this time?” He lowered his head, slightly, giving the girl a disapproving look. 

 

“Veils. It was no big deal. Just bypassed the scanners entirely. If they can't see me, they can't tell I'm goin' through.” 

 

“Have to fix that. 'Los, you'll help me put up magical sensors on those points?” He figured the other wizard would know what points he meant. He set the ball back down on his desk, and looked over at Carlos for his response. 

 

“Absolutamenté, señior.” Carlos bowed grandly. 

 

Tim spoke up. “Boss...” He whined, and Tony winced. “Boss, you can't expect me to believe that Tony is a what – what did he say? A wizard? There's no such thing.” 

 

“ _Any sufficiently_ advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, McGee.” Gibbs snorted at his gaping agents. 

 

“Boss, Boss you quoted Clarke! 2001: A Space Odyssey!” Tony gawked for a long moment, until his Boss turned that intense gaze on him. Then, he shuddered and turned away. 

 

Carlos noticed, and asked in Latin. “ _ What's going on, brother? I haven't seen that look on your face before. _ ” 

 

Tony sighed and looked over at McGee. “Yes, I am a wizard. It's why we're doing all these weird things. I mean, I wouldn't just not use a computer because I'm tired of paperwork. I'll tell you more later.” To Carlos, he replied in kind. “ _ My magic just explained a few things to me. I don't know if this is a result of being grandfather's heir, or just because I've got a buildup of magic in my system. But... I've been getting – flashes of insight about something, and it's not safe for work. _ ” 

 

“Oooh, la-la. Tell Tio Carlos all about it!” Carlos grinned, and gestured for Molly to come closer. 

 

“Wizard Ramirez, you're here to help me find a criminal, not to gossip like old witches.” Gibbs phrased his comment precisely to offend, and Tony was impressed. He watched the play of emotions across his friend's face: anger, frustration, understanding, and then, stoic acceptance. 

 

“Si, Jefe. Shall not happen again.” He nodded sharply, and looked up to Tony. “What information did you get?” 

 

“I opened my Sight. DB was lain out … Boss, you still got that sketch? Let me see it, please? Carlos will be able to understand it more clearly than you will.” He bit his bottom lip, and kept his attention on the case, or tried to. 

 

“Here.” He caught the folder Gibbs threw over and laid out the paper. 

 

“See, here was the DB... that's 'dead body' to you, Probie.” He looked directly at Molly, but Tim poked his head up, at least until he saw who Tony was talking to. “...Was lain out like this, and this stuff looked like ectoplasm just gone, or maybe about to go. There was the condom... had to smear the stuff inside on my new Aviator Ray-Bans...” He whined for a moment, and Tim, Carlos and Molly snickered. Ziva just looked a little confused, and Tony wasn't even going to look in Gibbs' direction. _Focus on the case, Anthony. Deal with your errant libido later._ “I tracked him to a house, and there was a heat-sensor... I think it was heat-sensor anyway … trap, flinging a metal blade out toward me. Now, boxcutters aside...” Both Ramirez and Molly laughed at that, though Molly's seemed to be a wet laugh, just on the edge of her tears. “I don't know of any Fae who use metal weapons. In fact, they refuse to. So, that means human, or something like it. It isn't a White, at least not a Raith, because they'd have taken her home and eaten her, and thrown her away there. No Reds left, and no marks to suggest Blacks. Ghouls, same problem with Whites... anybody I'm missing? It's obviously magic...” 

 

“I think I recognize this pattern. Tony, your name was?” Molly spoke up for the first time, chewing on the side of her lip in a very fetching way. If she wasn't his probie and his sight hadn't pushed him another direction, she'd be a very tempting person to comfort. 

 

“Yeah. Tony.” He stood up, and gestured to the seat. “Here. Sit down.” 

 

Molly took the seat, and looked over the paper again. “Let me guess.” She closed her eyes, pointing to the paper, and the paper began to change color in spots. “This part was sort of a sickly orange, right? And this one was oh, sort of puke green?” The paper followed her commands, and Tony nodded to each comment. “Blood red here.” She sighed. “Yeah. I recognize it. I don't remember it, exactly, but I've seen it before. Somewhere.” 

 

“How can you forget something you've Seen, Molly?” Carlos asked, knowing she had to have opened her Sight to see it. Or, thought that, at least. 

 

“I don't think I used my Sight, Carlos. I think I saw it in a dream, or in the waking world. I spent several months as a captive of Mab, so I can't promise it wasn't one of those freaky dreams we get when we know we're in trouble. They're not always the right ones.” 

 

“You're getting sight dreams already?” Tony was amazed. 

 

“Not exactly. Um, Harry...” Her voice broke. “Harry explained it to me as my magic collecting and reacting to my situation. But I'm not sure it was then. I just remember that it was really upsetting and not pretty.” 

 

“Well, warlocks aren't pretty, honey.” Tony sighed, feeling like he was running into a dead end. “Any ideas, Carlos?” 

 

“Other than being sure to set those sensors, no. Not a one. What about you, Agent Gibbs? Anthony tells me you've got a real skill for solving this kind of thing?” 

 

Gibbs snorted, and came over to look at the picture. “This kinda stuff's a bit outta my league, Ramirez. Now, find me a dirtbag, and I can connect him to the crime scene. Especially since he left his DNA in this picture.” He pointed to where the condom was. 

 

“Sex magic. That's what you said, Antonio.” Carlos snapped his fingers. “Sex magic...” He bit his lip. “Something about this ...” He shook his head. “S' right on the tip of my tongue, ehrmano.” 

 

“I also saw cuts on her skin. Not literal cuts, but cuts. I couldn't tell what kind of instrument would make that kind of cut.” 

 

“A Waterberg... no, that's not right. Wart...” She stomped her foot. 

 

“Abby. Boss, would you call Abby, and have her come up here, please?” Tony chanced a look over at Gibbs, who was watching them with that intense gaze. 

 

Gibbs dialed the number, and Abby tromped out of the elevator. She took one look at Molly and grinned. Molly looked at her, and gaped. 

 

“It's like Twins! You know, Danny DeVito and ...” Gibbs slapped him on the back of the head. “Thank you Boss, shutting up, Boss.” He closed his eyes, and let the warmth of even that touch from the man soak down deep into his soul. When he opened them, Carlos was giving him a knowing look. 

 

“ _Do not even think about it, Carlos. Not here. Not now. I swear._ ” Tony growled, switching to Latin without conscious thought. “Abby, what's the name of that wheel the doctor uses? Or you know – you can use it in other ways, too, of course.” 

 

“Kinky, Tony. I didn't know you did that kind of thing. Who're you?” She looked over at Carlos and Molly. 

 

“Oh, pardon me. This is Carlos Ramirez – don't get any ideas, Carlos, and Molly Carpenter. Molly's come from the family business. Well, they both have, technically, but Molly's my apprentice. My new sparkly shiny Probie.” Tony grinned, and ruffled Molly's hair a little. 

 

“Please don't do that, Tony.” Molly said, her voice on the edge of tears. 

 

“I'm sorry, did I hurt you?” He winced a little; he hadn't thought he'd been that rough. 

 

“No, it's just Harry used to do that, and ...” 

 

“Say no more. I'm sorry, Molly. Molly and Carlos, this is Abigail Scuito, our Forensic Scientist.” 

 

“Funny, you don't look like a forensic scientist.” 

 

“Funny, you don't look like a wizard.” Abby responded in kind. “Tony, why didn't you tell me you were a wizard? I have an uncle who can heat things up a little. He always wished he could be the real thing.” 

 

“Because we're not supposed to tell anybody, Abs. Focus, please. The name of the wheelie thing.” Tony groaned. Another person knew about them. 

 

“Wartenburg Wheel?” 

 

“That's it.” Now it was Molly's turn to snap her fingers. “Yeah. So, maybe find where you can buy a Wartenburg Wheel. Not that you'd have to present ID for, either. Because he's not going to want to be discovered. Right? He wants to be all incognito.” 

 

“Probie, you're good at this.” Molly beamed at the words. 

 

“McGee,” Gibbs barked the single word. 

 

“On it, Boss.” McGee began typing quickly. 

 

“So, our perp used a Wartenburg Wheel to do what? Do the patterns look like anything? I don't think it was just because she was enjoying it. That doesn't seem like his style...” He took out another sheet of paper, and began copying the patterns the man had traced on to her skin. “Do any of you recognize this? It looks like it's more than just a random pattern.” 

 

“Autopsy cuts.” Gibbs gestured to the lines on the body. “Mimicking cutting her open for autopsy. So, maybe the magic stuff realized that? Can it do that? Like that Abrava Kadadra thing you were talking about DiNozzo.” 

 

“Avada Kedavra, Boss, but yeah. Intent is a huge part of magic.” The other two wizards were nodding their agreement. “If he wanted to kill her, and ran the wheel over her skin, the magic might do the rest, especially if he was chanting and channeling it. Or, it could be part of a ritual. Something to take the power from her. I wonder if she was a practitioner.” 

 

“It's a very subtle use of the magic, though. That takes age or serious focus. Or both.” Carlos was sketching something out himself, now, looking at the detritus around the vic's body. 

 

“So someone like you, Boss.” Tony knew he'd pay for that remark, but it needed said to lighten the mood. 

 

“You callin' me old, DiNozzo?” Gibbs reached over and slapped him again, and Tony responded again. He'd have to be careful, or he'd shoot his load right here in the Bullpen. 

 

“No, Boss, just very intense. And quite a bit of experience, too. Not in bad stuff, though. Just in catching bad guys.” Tony grinned, waiting through the surge of pleasure his magic insisted on sharing with him. He shook his head quickly, and looked back down at the picture. 

 

McGee piped up just then. “Boss, there are six stores who sell Wartenburg Wheels to people without asking for their medical licenses. Two of those stores haven't sold any in the past two weeks, and two more wouldn't sell to our guy. They're very – uh – specialized stores, Boss.” 

 

“Just say it, Timmy. They're kink-clubs.” Abby nodded. “I probably know them.” 

 

“Down on Jackson and forty-third, and the other one's … oh about two blocks from there.” Gibbs spoke up, and everybody in the room turned toward him. “What? Had a wife who went through a phase. Didn't last long.” 

 

Tony shuddered, and stood up. “Okay. I gotta hit the head, Boss. I'll be right back.” He practically ran out of the room before his magic could give him images and ideas. It was really pushing this. Maybe there was a reason, but he wasn't going to do anything just yet. 

 

As he left, he heard Molly say to Abby, “Damn, he's got it bad, doesn't he?” He didn't hear Abby's response, but it sounded affirmative. 

 

 _ Oh, holy fucking shit. _ He banged his head against the stall door a few times. He was so doomed. 

 

* * * 

 

Tony just decided to jack himself off right there, and deal with the problem proactively. He let his magic swirl happily around him, making the process a quick and fairly painless one. He finished with a shuddering breath, and pissed, the stream hitting the urinal just as the door opened. He groaned. 

 

“Ziva, if that's you...” He looked over, and saw his boss. “Oh, hey, Boss. Everything okay?” 

 

“I dunno, DiNozzo. Was about t' ask you the same thing. What's goin' on? You alright?” He stayed on the other side of the wall until Tony had tucked himself away and walked over to wash his hands. 

 

“Well, other than my boss coming into the restroom to bother me, yeah, I'm good. What gives, Boss? This is usually Ziva's thing.” Tony soaped up his hands, working a good lather, trying to get all the evidence of his previous activity washed off his hands. 

 

“Well, didn't think you wanted t' talk to me about this in the conference room, and can't use the elevator. Explain it, DiNozzo. Where's your head?” Gibbs strode over and used one of the urinals himself.

 

Tony rinsed his hands clean, and dried them off. “It's not exactly easy to explain, Boss.” Gibbs just turned his head to look over at him, those piercing blue eyes telling him to try anyway. “Okay. It's like this. When a wizard starts to get a little more mature, not old, because for us, old is like three hundred, or so. I'm serious.” He held up his clean hands against the disbelief he assumed was there. “Anyway, when we get more mature, our magic starts leading us toward things that we need. Or people we need. Well, my theory is since I had it all locked away for so long, it's getting back at me by starting the process earlier, or something. I've been getting flashes of some things...” 

 

“Wanna tell me about 'em, Tony?” Gibbs' voice dropped a little, and there was a growl he'd never heard directed at him. Oh, Gibbs'd growled at him, but never like _this_. 

 

“Well, Boss, it's like this. I've been feeling your hands all over my body, your eyes piercing me in a totally different way than you do when I mess up...”

 

“What way, Tony?” He finished up at the urinal, and moved over to wash his own hands, invading Tony's space, stepping into the area for the same sink he used, instead of using the other one. “Tell me about it.” 

 

Tony swallowed hard, and nodded. “Like … like you wanna eat me alive, Boss.” He chuckled, nerves jangling, his small laugh sounding like a sharp scratch on a wooden plank. “And not for dinner.” 

 

“So, more like _this_ , then?” Gibbs leaned in, and gazed at him for a long moment, unconsciously taking advantage of the fact that he didn't have to worry about a soulgaze. The intensity in those blue eyes made him shudder. 

 

“Yeah, Jethro,” Tony responded, taking a chance. “Yeah. Just like that.” He shuddered again, then leaned in a little more, waiting for Gibbs to make that last little move. _C'mon, Boss._

 

He did. He pressed his lips to Tony's sharply, solidly. Tony gasped, and Jethro took that as permission. He leaned in further, stealing all the breath from his mouth, tongue pulsing and sweeping around in strong swipes, holding, connecting, and claiming. Tony moaned into the kiss, and pushed back with his own tongue. The two of them stood there kissing like teenagers until the low oxygen started to catch up with Tony and he started wheezing a little. Jethro pulled back and lowered his head down to rest his forehead on Tony's shoulder. 

 

“You okay, Tony?” He was panting heavily, too. 

 

“Oh, _yeah_.” Tony wrapped his arms around Jethro's body, hands meeting at his waistline. “Oh, yeah. This is good.” 

 

“Good. Breathing not too bad? Heard you wheezing a bit.” 

 

“I'll be okay, Bo – I mean, Jethro.” Tony sighed contentedly. “What about Rule Twelve, Boss?” 

 

“Not an Agent anymore. On paper, yeah. But you're a Merlin, or whatever-the-hell you call yourselves. So, not breakin' rule twelve.” He lifted his head to give Tony a sly grin. “Besides, magic kinda supersedes rules, doesn't it?” 

 

Tony laughed, shaking both their bodies with his mirth. “Oh, yeah. Blame it all on my magic.” He snorted, and shook his head. “We'd better straighten out and go back out there. Carlos is likely to come looking, and I'll never hear the end of it.” He grinned. 

 

“First and last time at work, Tony. I mean it. Too much chance of getting caught. We can't let it mess up the professional stuff between us, or make the team unsafe. I won't do that.” 

 

“Got it, Boss.” He grinned, and they headed out toward the Bullpen to see what was going on. 

 

* * * 

 

The other two places that sold the Wartenburg Wheels were out of the way. If he didn't think he'd be disparaging 'hole-in-the-wall' places, Tony would have labeled them so. The first one was a craft store that doubled as an adult specialty store. Tony mused about the combination on the drive, until Molly pointed out that it was just the place her mother would frequent, and if someone could spice up her parents' sex life, it'd be a place like that. The second one was run by a biker chick who took one look at the motley crew stepping into her store and started laughing. 

 

“What's so funny?” That was Molly. She'd promised to be good if Tony let her come along for the ride. 

 

“Oh, you all look so precious. What is it? First orgy? Or support group for the little one, huh?” She looked over at Tim. “Don't even bother looking up there, sweetie.” She gazed up on the shelf, where some very oddly shaped … things... toys sat. “Those are for – advanced users. We've got the beginner stuff down here.” And sure enough, Tony looked down, and there was a massive selection of toys of more normal shapes and sizes. 

 

“Ma'am, I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee, and these are my colleagues. We're here to ask you about your sales of Wartenburg Wheels within the last two weeks. Specifically to men. We're looking for ...” He turned toward Tony and nodded his head off to the side a little, ceding the floor to him. 

 

“White male, approximately six foot tall. He's got dark hair, possibly long, maybe even in a mullet. God, I hate mullets.” He shook his head, and continued. “He'd want to buy several, probably, and he probably made a big deal of it. He was probably condescending and...” He turned toward Carlos and Molly. “Am I missing anything?” 

 

“No, Boss, except for the fact that he did not want to show his ID at all.” Molly piped up, looking over some of the different toys. “He traveled here quickly, and you didn't see a car. And when he left, you heard a huge 'Pop', or 'Rip' or something.” 

 

“Ho-lee Shit. How'd you do that?” She looked among the five of them. “Yeah, I had a guy come in, paid me cash for them. You want a picture?” She frowned, shuffling around in some papers. “I felt like I had to keep track of that one. You know how it is. You run a business, and some of the customers just need to be kept track of.” 

 

Carlos grinned, looking over at Molly, and Tony chuckled softly at the unspoken message. “Si, ma'am, we do. And such a beautiful lady like yourself...” 

 

“'Los. Cut it out.” Tony cut him off, and shook his head. It was ironic, him cutting off another man flirting with witnesses, but he felt an urgency about this. 

 

“Tony, that's not...” McGee started to complain. 

 

“I get it, McGoo. But now is not the time or place. I have a gut feeling.” He glanced around. “How long was he here, ma'am?” He took the picture she offered, obviously a still from her video surveillance system. 

 

“Ten, fifteen minutes max, I think?” She frowned. “But I can't be sure.” 

 

“Shit.” Tony looked to the other wizards, who had similar looks on their faces. 

 

“Ma'am, are you missing anything? Something you think you misplaced?” Carlos was all seriousness now. No hint of the playboy now. 

 

“Well, now that you mention it, I am missing several bottles of ...” She moved over to the wall, pointing the particular brand of lube out. It was a very high-end brand, and Tony picked up one of the bottles. “How much does this run for?” He rolled his eyes at the snickers. 

 

“I thought, if he took several bottles, he might still have it on him. Are there many sellers of this stuff in town?” 

 

“No. Only one other, and he won't sell to just anybody.” 

 

“So the place up on Jackson.” Tony guessed.

 

“Yeah. You really _have_ done your homework.” She looked impressed. 

 

“Well, with this dirtbag on the loose, yeah, we kinda have to. Okay. I'll buy two bottles. Give one to Abby, see what she can make of it, and the other for me to see if I can track.” _I won't use it all for **that** ,_ Tony thought to himself, and then realized that his thoughts were plain on his face. 

 

“Awww, who is she, Special Agent?” The shop owner grinned. 

 

“Oh, _he's_ my very male, very sexy partner. Alpha. You know the type.” He affected a British accent. “ 'Eyes like the sea after a storm.'” The others were looking at him strangely. “What? Princess Bride. You don't think the Boss could make a good Dread Pirate Roberts?” 

 

“Maybe, Tony, but you're no Buttercup.” Tim shook his head, and gestured toward the counter. “Pay for that, and let's go. Said Pirate will have our asses in a sling if we don't get back to work.” 

 

“Oh, honey. He's your boss?” The woman gave him a sympathetic glance. “You sure you want to buy that second bottle?” 

 

“Yes.” Tony pursed his lips, and paid for the stuff. “C'mon, Carlos, Probies, let's go.” They left, Carlos leaving a 'mark' on the doorjamb to remember the place by. 

 

“What was that for, Carlos?” Tony asked as they headed back to the Navy Yard. 

 

“Lets us find the place quickly if he comes back and alerts me if he does.” Carlos shrugged. 

 

“Good idea.” The rest of the occupants of the car murmured their agreement. 


	4. Chapter 4

They returned to the Navy Yard, and Tony sent one of the bottles down to Abby to test for weird ingredients, or whatever she could get from it. The other bottle Tony stuck in his pocket for the moment as he pondered all the different ways he could use the liquid to find its like in the city. If the warlock was even in the city. He could have gone beyond by now. 

 

“That's the difficult thing.” He muttered to himself. 

 

“Hmm?” Tony looked up to see blue eyes looking back at him. “What ya got?” It wasn't barked harshly like normal, but spoken gently. That in and of itself shocked him a little. 

 

He gave his boss and lover a half-smile, and shrugged. “Not a lot, Boss. Just thinking that normal ideas aren't gonna work. We can't put a BOLO out for the Way points. We know the guy uses the Ways...” 

 

“Can you set those detector thingies at the Way points?” Gibbs looked thoughtful. “Like the ones you set downstairs, except keyed to his what?” He gazed straight past Tony, looking off at something no one but him could see, like he did when he was deep in thought. 

 

 _ Goddammit, he's beautiful. _ Tony sighed, and then he collected himself. He shrugged. “Two choices, Boss, and both will work if we do them today. After sunset, only the one is open. The first, and this is the one I think will work better, especially if he's the one ripping open the Ways, is to mark it for his magic. It'll sense the magic, and alert whichever one of us sets that particular sensor. If we all three set sensors, it'll get it done much quicker, and maybe we can kind of set up zones...” 

 

“Yeah, DiNozzo, I get the point. Big city.” He rolled his eyes, and turned his focus back on Tony's face. Tony gulped, and continued. “The second one, which would be what we'd have to do if we don't do this tonight, is to set it for his physical marker. Kind of like biometrics, but unfortunately, the magic isn't always as accurate as the tech.” 

 

“That like that eyeball thingy?” 

 

“Yeah, Boss. Exactly. Like the eyeball thingy, except from his sperm. Also, that one would take more of Abby's sample, which I know she's probably run, but you know how people are about evidence.” He grinned, because he was one of those people. After this long on various PDs and as a Federal Agent, he knew collection and storage procedure pretty damn well. There were a few variations from place to place, but they only served to enforce the continuity of the rest. There were only so many ways you could store things and find them easily for putting scumbags away. 

 

“How long you need to set up the magic ones? And you got enough juice? You were sayin' earlier you might need a boost. Anything I can do t' help that?” Tony grinned at Jethro's words. 

 

“ _Oh, Boss._ You have _no_ idea.” He stretched his hands behind his head and began whistling an old love song. 

 

* * * 

In the end, it was decided they'd pair up. McGee went with Carlos, Ziva with Molly, and Tony and Jethro. “We'll take um, the North side, and over here. McGoo, you okay with taking Carlos over on this side?” McGee nodded. “And that leaves four gates for you ladies. Will you be able to find them, Molly?” 

 

“Easily, Tony. I'll take Bob.” Molly held up the backpack containing the skull. 

 

“I'm never calling it Bob,” Tony repeated, and everybody groaned a little. He grinned and sketched a half bow. His job was done. “Alright, then. Each of you take just a tiny sample. Just enough to match the magic. Shouldn't be too much, and we want to preserve as much as possible for the testing and evidence logs. You know these normals.” He grinned more widely, or did until a slap on the back of the head brought him back in line. “Yes, Boss, thank you Boss.” His magic sang, but not quite as loudly as before their kiss. Now, it was more a matter of recognition, of belonging, instead of a fierce _need._ “Wonder Twin Powers – Oh, wait. Wonder Triplet powers! Activate!” Carlos and Molly were laughing, Tim was rolling his eyes and Ziva was asking Molly what a Wonder Triplet was. 

 

“C'mon, Boss, we're burnin' daylight.” He quoted the man's words back to him. 

 

“Ya think, DiNozzo?” And they headed out to set the ward stones. 

 

* * * 

On their drive, Tony surreptitiously slipped his hand into Jethro's. “Is this okay? Because I know technically, we're on the clock, but we're not really  _ working _ right now.” 

 

“Inherit your grandma's thing for pushin' the rules, DiNozzo?” Jethro smiled at him, and slid his fingers between Tony's. “For now. It's your show. Much as I don't like takin' second string, I gotta with this stuff.” 

 

“Yeah, Boss, if I could give you a chance to feel what this felt like, I would. Because...” Tony shrugged, looking out the window. “First one's up here about a quarter of a mile, and then take a right.” 

 

“Gotcha. I think I got a little bit of an idea when you were tellin' me about this the first time. When I looked into your eyes. That picture show thingy.” 

 

“A soulgaze?” Tony chuckled at his lover's description of it. 

 

“Yeah, that.” Jethro pulled his hand out of Tony's, and put it back on the wheel. “Got a feelin' like warm water pulsin' through my veins. Then, when I kissed you. Mighta been for different reasons then, though.” He reached down, grabbed Tony's hand, and set it on his thigh, right near his hip. “Feels good. Leave it there.” 

 

“Aye, aye, sir.” Tony saluted messily with his other hand. 

 

“Least you get the hand right. Abby keeps salutin' me with her left hand. Don't have the heart t' tell her she's doin' it wrong.” Jethro chuckled.

 

“Four years of military school, Jethro. I could salute in my sleep.” Tony responded, returning his hand to the 'Oh shit' bar as they turned. “Right – along – here.” He pointed to a copse of trees off the road about fifty yards. “You want to come along?” 

 

“Might as well. Just tell me what t' do, Tony.” Jethro got out of the car amidst Tony's snickers. “For the job, dumbass,” he added, looking across the top of the car at a grinning Tony. “C'mon. Let's get this done.” 

 

“Draw your weapon, then, Boss, because I've gotta open the doorway to set the ward. Setting it right where he would come out...” He snorted. “Also, all sorts of other kinds of weirdos live right on the other side.” Gibbs pulled his service weapon out, and Tony inhaled, remembered the kiss, and smiled. He spoke the Norse word to open the Ways, and began setting the ward. “Anything heads your way you don't recognize, call and shoot, Boss. Tell 'em you've got cold iron.” 

 

“More like hot lead, DiNozzo.” Gibbs snorted. “Much longer?” 

 

“Naw, just – about – there. Set.” Tony pushed a little more of his will into the stone, connecting it to himself. “You wanna hear it too, Boss?” 

 

“Hear what, Tony?” Gibbs asked, his eyes still focused intently on the open Way. 

 

“The alarm thingy.” Tony replied, ready to cast the connector spell if he did. 

 

“Naw, leave that to you Merlins.” Gibbs jerked his head sideways. “You done?” 

 

“Yeah.” Tony anchored the spell, and stepped back, closing the Way. “Next one!” He grinned. “We've only got like ten more of these to do, Boss.” 

 

“Ten more?” Gibbs was incredulous. “You only gave Molly four.” 

 

“Molly's a probie, not quite the same as our probies, Boss, and she doesn't know how to refuel. Carlos can if he really has to, but...” He grinned. “I can refuel any damn time I want to.” The grin turned smug. 

 

“Oh, ya can, can ya?” Gibbs frowned. “Thought you said that was gonna be an issue.” He reholstered his weapon and climbed back into the car. “Where to now, DiNozzo?” Tony gave him directions, and then Gibbs asked again. “What changed?” 

 

“You kissed me.” Tony said, settling his hand on Jethro's hip again. 

 

“What the hell, DiNozzo? You're not stealin' anything from me when we're kissin' are ya?” Gibbs swerved unnecessarily. 

 

“No, Boss. It's... It's emotions. When I'm kissing you, it's awesome. So, I get all riled up and happy, and my magic responds to that. I wish I could explain it better.” 

 

“Huh. So, I'm like your own perpetual motion machine, huh?” He turned toward Tony and flashed a quick, bright smile. 

 

“Oh, gods yes. Like a megawatt battery that never goes out.” Tony shuddered again, and leaned his head over to rest on Jethro's shoulder. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this has officially gone AU. I've read Ghost Story, and of course, several of the people and things I've commandeered for my story do totally different things in canon. Which I figured. So, keep that in mind.
> 
> By the way, if you're wondering, GS is an awesome read. Little darker than I prefer, but it's very good. I cried really really hard at one particular point. If you know me, and read the book, you can probably tell where I completely lost it. Not hard to guess. Anyway. Fae in this chapter.

  
It happened as Tony was fixing the seventh Waypoint. He heard it before Jethro called out. A low hum, like the buzzing of a million bees began, and started to build up. Jethro yelled, “Cold Iron. Don't come any further,” and the noise held in place. When Tony looked up, there was a woman standing in front of him, an ethereal beauty with pale white skin, long tresses of black, soft hair, and fiery blue eyes. “What art thou doing to the Ways, Mortal?”    


 

“Madam, we are merely marking the ones in our area to alert us when a certain warlock comes through. No one else shall be hindered, or nay, even noticed.” Tony bowed respectfully. “May I know what to call thee?”

 

“I am Galera. Servant of Winter. And thy own name, child?” Tony shivered a little at her tone.

 

“I am Anthony, Scion of The Merlin. Not Merlin, but The Merlin.” He offered his use name, and pedigree, just as she had done.

 

“Oh, young Arthur. What an interesting man. And thou art his issue?” She moved closer, touching his chin, looking into his face, but averting his eyes. She didn't exactly want a soulgaze either.

 

“I am his issue, yes.” Behind him, Gibbs cleared his throat, and Tony shook his head just a little, letting him know he needed to handle this.

 

“Oooh. A vanilla mortal. I have not seen the like in many a year. Who is he to you, Anthony?” She released his face and stepped a little closer, staying within the Nevernever. “Step closer, Mortal, that I may examine thee.”

 

“It's okay, she's bound by certain laws, and ...” He decided to say no more at this point.

 

Jethro moved forward, slowly, as though approaching a dangerous but highly honored foreign dignitary. “Ma'am.”

 

“What is thy name, Mortal?” Tony winced, and hoped that Jethro would only give her one name.

 

He did. He apparently took note of the protocol thus far, and followed it. “I'm Jethro, ma'am. Workin' with Anthony.” He smiled at the words.

 

“And more than working, if I have not missed my guess. Anthony, I can see why you have chosen him for your companion. You have chosen well.” She tilted her head sideways. “Explain these wards to me. If they truly do not do more than warn, what is the purpose?”

 

“We had a warlock come through one of them recently and kill someone dear to Jethro. We're avenging him by marking the Ways just to locate him. When we do, I have Warden Ramirez nearby to execute him for crimes against the Council.” He pointedly did not mention their Normal job.

 

“Which ones?” Tony pondered for a moment before responding. If he gave her the information for free, he would miss out on the opportunity to make a deal. If he pushed too much, she might lose her temper, and that wouldn't be good at all. He frowned, gazed over at his boss, and they held a silent conversation. It wasn't long or terribly enlightening, but it was there.

 

“We shall finish our duties? There are only four more for me to mark, and I am done.” She nodded. He quirked a brow at her, waiting for a verbal answer.

 

“Winter shall not block the placing of these ward stones.” Ohh, trickily worded. If she had said otherwise, he could have held her responsible for not protecting him as he finished. Since she'd promised not to touch him, he could answer her question.

 

“The first law, and probably the fourth law, as well. Without a soulgaze, we can't be certain, but our empirical evidence suggests so.” The Sidhe shuddered a little.

 

“We do not need another like your Wizard Peabody.” The buzzing increased in volume again, as though emphasizing her point.

 

“No, Ma'am, we do not. That is why we want to stop him while he's still sporting with young maidens.” He sighed. He hated talking to faeries. Worse than lawyers.

 

“This is the magic you need laid on the ground at the point of entry to the Way?” She examined the magic, and began spinning her own ward. “So, this?” It was close enough. It _smelled_ like Faerie magic somehow, but it was close enough. 

 

“Yes, Ma'am. Except...” He reached over and touched her ward, imbuing it with a little of himself. “Then it will alert me when he comes through.”

 

“Oh! I see. How lovely. I shall place these on the other four. You appear to be tiring, and even with your consort along, it makes for a long day. And it does appear that time is of the essence. I can fly along these ways...” With that, she allowed her shape to change, and she became this huge bug-like thing, like a queen bee with a face, holding the ward in human hands attached lopsidedly to insectoid legs. He shuddered.

 

“And may I ask the cost, Galera?” He used her name intentionally.

 

“Merely that you do execute the warlock when he is found. The disturbance in the balance was great when your hidden warlock executed his well-thought out plan. It made our lives... troublesome.” She bared sharp teeth in her strange face, and flew away, his ward in her hands.

 

“She gonna do it, Tony?” Jethro wondered, and Tony considered it.

 

“Rule #13, Boss?” Tony replied quickly.

 

“Yeah?” The confusion was evident on his face.

 

“Goes double for faeries.” He snorted.

 

“So, we check?” They headed back to the car.

 

“I'm not sure. I'll ask Carlos what he thinks, but I think she was serious. That part about the fallout being troublesome is news to me. I mean, I know it kinda led to Harry not having a lot of resources when he took the Reds out, which meant they gained and lost a Knight in a matter of a few days. That's gotta throw the balance way off.” Tony settled into the seat, and waited until Jethro had done the same. “Do you mind?” He leaned toward him, intent clear.

 

“Naw. This look like work to you?” Gibbs snorted, and they spent the next few minutes making out like teenagers at the top of a hill.

 * * *

 

They got back to the Navy Yard, and set about the process of waiting. Carlos had hemmed and hawed about the faeries, but in the end they decided to trust luck and not push the situation by checking on them. While they waited, Tony, Molly and Carlos went through the box. “We really ought to pull Bob out and get his opinion.” Molly chewed on her fingernail.

 

“Means we'd have to go into the conference room.” Tony turned to look at Gibbs, his stomach grumbling. “Boss, can we get some sort of food ordered in? All of us are hungry and it's getting late. It's gonna be a late night, and we all work better with full stomachs.” _Even you, you big idiot._ He snorted at his thought, and gazed back down at the box on his desk. 

 

“You go into that conference room, you're gonna get off track, DiNozzo. Can you put the skully thing in the drawer, and have him whisper?” He didn't seem to want to let Tony out of his sight. “McGee, call out for food. Not pizza, and not Chinese. Had enough of that crap this week.”

 

“On it Boss.” McGee glanced around at the others, hoping for input on what kind of food to get.

 

“Mexican is always good, man.” Carlos responded, grinning. “All kinda tasty flavors – ooof!” His lewd comment was cut off by an apprentice elbow to the gut.

 

“Stop it Carlos. I'm good with whatever.” Well, that made sense to Tony. She came from a huge family, and was pretty open to eating whatever was put on the table.

 

“You know me, Probie. I'll eat about anything.” Tony gave his own salacious leer, and was stopped short by a glare from his boss. “I mean. I think my tastes have grown a lot more lately, and I now only eat the finest and most delicious food.” He grinned, and they all groaned, except for Gibbs, who seemed to give a half-smile for just a moment.

 

“Whatever, DiNozzo.” He chuckled, and shook his head. “Anything in there that Normals use?” He walked over to the box, settling his hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony leaned into the touch, and felt Jethro's breath quicken for just a second. In the background, he could hear Tim ordering from a local Mexican place.

 

“If you need someone who can speak the language, Tim, let us know. Sometimes, that place'll give discounts if you order things … correctly.” He snorted.

 

“No, I think we're good.” He looked up, grumpy at something.

 

“He feeling left out, Boss?” Tony whispered, looking up to the man standing behind his chair.

 

“Well, duh, DiNozzo.” He stepped back, moving over to his desk to pull out his chair. “Whatcha got in there?”

 

“Mostly components, Boss. Kinda like the stuff in my box, except the Sith version.” There were a few chuckles at that, but Gibbs wasn't one of them.

 

“The what?” Tony sighed exasperatedly.

 

“This guy's like me, except he's on the 'dark side.'”

 

“Tony, if you mention cookies, I'll shank you.” Tony blinked at the older man.

 

“Yes, Boss.” He tilted his head, asking silently why the comment bothered him.

 

“Maddie's ex had some hat or somethin' with a sticker on it.” _Ohhhh._ Tony completely understood now. That guy had been a prick. 

 

“Gotcha, Boss. McGee, what's the ETA on the food?” He purposefully deterred the conversation.

 

“About twenty minutes, Tony, as usual.” McGee grumbled.

 

“Hey, McGoogle, would you do me a favor, please?” He pulled out the lube out of his pocket. “Would you look up something for me? Like the chemical properties of...” He rattled off the name of two of the chemicals in the lube. “I'm wondering if he isn't planning another ritual, and trying a substitution.”

 

“Okay, Tony.” Tim seemed to guess that he was being patronized, but with something he could do, he still settled in to work.

 

“Thanks, McGee.” When Tony didn't mangle his name, Tim looked up and stared at him for about a minute before returning to typing away on his computer.

 

Gibbs looked down at him, and his eyes beamed. Something inside Tony wriggled in a contented glee.

* * *

They went through the box methodically, preserving the contents both magically and mundanely. Gibbs wanted to look through the book, but Tony asked him if he'd hold off on that until he got Bob's opinion. “Boss...” He tried to think of a reasonable way of explaining, but it was Molly who came up with it.

 

“Sir,” she began, only to be stopped by three voices, all male, all agents.

 

“Don't call me sir. I work for a living.” “Don't call him sir, he works for a living.” Gibbs stared at the other two for a long moment before rolling his eyes, and turning back to the young wizard. “Go on, Carpenter.”

 

Molly looked a little worried when Gibbs called her by her last name but Tony shrugged, so she continued. “It's like the goose that lays the golden egg. Some things, if you touch them, you can't let go. Except it's your mind that's stuck, not your hands.”

 

Jethro nodded his understanding, and left the book alone.

 

Finally, they resorted to setting all the components out on the desk and arranging them and rearranging them according to possible uses. “It's like a jigsaw puzzle.” Molly mused.

 

“I'm no good at jigsaw puzzles.” Tony's voice started to carry a bit of whine, so his boss whacked him lightly on the back of the head. “Yes, boss. Thank you boss. Getting back to work.”

 

Molly looked amused, and then, she frowned. “Would any of you mind if we pulled Bob out? I think I can veil him to where he looks like one of the components to anyone but the team. I'll have to have you all – come over here and touch the skull maybe? I'm not good at setting up a veil for specific Normals yet.”

 

“McGee, David, come touch the skull.” Gibbs frowned. “Tony? Y' want Duck and Abs in on this?”

 

Tony frowned, and thought for a few minutes. “Yeah, I think so. The more the merrier. Ducky's esoteric knowledge and Abby's, well, varied and interesting knowledge will probably help us.” He looked to the other two magicals, and silently asked their opinions.

 

“It's your call, 'mano. I can't say. I met the girl, but I haven't met the Duck yet.” Carlos tilted his head, confused about Ducky's nickname.

 

“I don't care. I just think we need Bob for this, and if you want them in on the veil, they need to be touching it when I put it up.”

 

“Okay.” He reached over to his old phone, and Gibbs shook his head. He patted his pocket where he carried his stone.

 

“Show 'em what they do, DiNozzo.” He pulled his chair from behind his desk, and moved over closer to Tony's desk to watch the team's reaction up close.

 

“Alright, Boss.” Tony sounded resigned. He whispered the words, imbuing the Name with a hint of his will, and waited for Ducky to respond.

 

“Yes, Anthony?” Tony frowned at his tone.

 

“Something wrong?” He tilted his head to hear the man's response.

 

“I am quite busy, so if you are merely playing around with your new toy, I can't respond right now. However, if it's a matter of importance ...” His voice trailed off.

 

“It is important, Ducky. Gibbs wanted me to show McGee and Ziva the stones, and wanted you to grab Abby and come up here for just a few minutes, if you can.”

 

“My fault, Duck.” Gibbs moved over to stand by Tony, speaking into the stone like a speakerphone. “Figured if they were gonna be workin' closely with this, they ougtta know a few things. Got a … well, a thing we need your help with real quick. Tony's callin' it a jigsaw puzzle.”

 

“On my way, Jethro.” He paused, and Tony heard the stone being set down. “Anthony, how _do_ you turn it off?”

 

That got a laugh from Tony, a small grin from Gibbs, and confusion from everybody else. “Just will it off, Ducky.”

 

“Oh, of course, my boy. We are on our way.” And there was a sharp ping, and then dead air.

 

“That ping was new.” Tony mused.

 

“Happens when you use it with someone who's pretty strong of will. It's like slammin' the phone down.” Carlos responded, grinning.

“I didn't hear it when Gibbs turned his off.” He frowned. “And Gibbs is the strongest willed person I know.”

 

“He musta known how much juice to put into it, then. Not bad for a first time.” Ramirez looked impressed. Tony _was_ impressed. But not surprised. He looked over at Gibbs, and snorted. The smug look was a good one on his boss.

 

“They're on their way.” Tony repeated, unnecessarily. It would have been necessary had he been using a phone, but because he'd bee talking on the comm-stone, they'd all heard. It took a moment for all of them to process that, and then Gibbs nodded, as he would if it'd been news. Tony gave a half-smile, appreciative of the gesture.

 

“What gives, Bossman?” Abby said, reappearing with Ducky behind her. Tony grinned at her, and walked over to her to point to the skull.

 

“Go put your...” He looked down at her fingers. “Your lovely black-clad fingers on the skull, please. At least one. You too, please Ducky.” Both complied, and the rest of the team followed suit. “You don't need us to touch, right? You can just block out the other Normals?”

 

“Oh, yeah, that's a totally different illusion.” Molly nodded. She spoke in a quiet Latin and there was a flash. “There. I think that's done it. Maybe have someone from another team check? But it should be good.”

 

“Balboa!” Gibbs barked across the bullpen. “Borrow you for a sec?”

 

“Coming, Gibbs.” He frowned and strode quickly to the center of the bullpen.

 

“Workin' on a strange case, and need an outsider's point of view. Looks like it could be pretty old, DiNozzo says it's not that old.”

 

“What, Gibbs? All I see is this ancient book, and a box of some weird – hey, is that _hemlock_? What the hell kinda case are you workin' anyway?”

 

“Yeah, its hemlock. It's all pretty...” Gibbs shrugged.

 

“It's _hinky_ , is what it is, Balboa.” Abby emphasized.

 

“Everything's _hinky_ to you, Labrat.” Balboa teased. The MCRT looked up, each of them twisting their heads to look between the other Senior Agent and the forensic scientist.

 

“Oh, c'mon. You guys. He calls me that all the time. Like you call me Abs, and you call me Mistress of the Dark, and I won't tell anybody what _you_ call me.” She pointed to Gibbs, Tony and Tim in turn. The two visiting wizards laughed, and that broke up the tension.

 

“Thanks, Balboa.” Tony said, waving a hand, knowing his boss wouldn't say the words. Even if he felt that way.

 

“No big deal, Tone.” Balboa wandered back to his desk, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath about crazy agents.

 

“So, why did we have to touch the skull, Bossman, and why didn't Balboa see it?” Abby piped up curiously after Balboa had reseated himself at his desk.

 

“Tony?” Gibbs tilted his head.

 

“Molly, my little probie here, is a very good verisimilomancer.” Tony grinned, and Molly rolled her eyes, slugging Tony in the arm.

 

“Ouch!” Tony grumbled, his hand going up to his arm. “She hits as well as you do, Abs. She's an illusionist. She hides things and makes things look different than they really are.”

 

“Oh, that's so cool!” Abby hopped up and down, then paused as she looked at the skull. “But why's she need to hide a human skull? We've got loads of them around here.”

 

“Do you have any that are considerably bigger than this one? I've gotten a bit larger in my old age.” Bob's voice came out of the skull, and everybody except for Jethro, Molly, and Carlos jumped.

 

Ziva muttered something in Hebrew which had Molly laughing, Tim swore loudly with an exaggerated 'Fuck', and Abby just jumped a bit more than her normal bounce and leaned in to examine the skull. Ducky looked pensive and turned to Tony.

 

“Anthony, is this your artifact?” He stroked his thumb and finger down the side of his chin as though straightening a beard.

 

“Not exactly, Ducky. It's on loan to me. I'm borrowing it for now. If things go well, I might be able to return him to his owner pretty soon. I don't know.” Tony spoke, and then turned to see Molly who was looking at him with full, shining eyes. “Yeah. I think he may turn up again. I don't know that I'll be able to go back into the box, though.”

 

“Is that not 'into the closet'?” Ziva looked confused, and everyone around her laughed. Well, except for Gibbs. He smiled that enigmatic smile that made Tony's heart race. He twirled around to look directly at his lover.

 

“No, in this case, I really do mean back into the box. Like a toy that you've pulled out of the original wrapping. You can't put it back in there again. Not the same exact way, anyway. But, you might be right, too. Can't go back in there, either.”

 

Jethro quirked an eyebrow at him, and the rest of the room fell silent.

 

At least until the Boss jumpstarted the investigation. “We gonna play grab-ass all day, or we gonna get some work done on the damn case?”


	6. Chapter 6

They kept working on the lists, each of them working through their own ideas. Strangely enough, everybody contributed a little bit. Ziva had a very different viewpoint on magic and folk tales, not only bringing the Israeli point of view to the table, but a clear understanding of the Arab mindset as well. Tim drew from science fiction and fantasy. That didn't always have a lot of concrete information, but it certainly gave them new avenues to think about. Abby had her folk knowledge from New Orleans and the deep South as well as her studies in both forensic science and the paranormal. Ducky. Ducky had the medical knowledge, psychology knowledge and the history and experiences of his years. Gibbs had military understanding and a few other esoteric things he'd learned for missions. Tony was surprised but pleased as they showed his family how well they worked together.

 

“Well, it could also be used to call the fae, maybe.” Tim glanced down at the container in his hands. “This stuff mixed with honey...” He frowned. “Isn't there a story about faerie rings and honey and this stuff...”

 

“Harry once trapped a Sidhe Lord in a barbed wire circle with something similar to this, I think he said.” Molly had finally gotten over the discomfort of saying her mentor's name. She tapped her cheek with her index finger. “He said – I can't remember what he said. I wasn't around him at the time.”

 

“That was about the time I met him, yeah. I got to ride his dinosaur during that mess.” Carlos nodded, leaning back in his chair.

 

“Ride his dinosaur? Is that a euphemism?” Ducky looked between the younger agents and the wizards.

 

“No, Doctor Mallard. I really rode a dinosaur. He reanimated one, and we rode it through the streets of Chicago.” Carlos grinned. “Bob kept control of it. Talk about crazy times.”

 

Bob snorted, and the skull swiveled on its own to look at Carlos. “That was most of his existence, actually.” He looked over at the containers they were holding. “This stuff plus sex magic? We might have to add another law to the list, Boss.”

 

Jethro started to respond, but it was Tony who did. “Which one?”

 

“He was trying to go through the outer gates. You need to find him fast before he takes out another girl. He'll have a harder time picking up the elephant horn dust, but it won't take him _that_ long. Especially if he can find a good supplier.” Bob's orange eyes blinked.

 

“S'at what this is?” Jethro picked up the container of white powder. “Huh. S'long as it's not plague.” He rolled his eyes and looked over at Tony.

 

“Hardee harr harr, Boss.” Tony pulled another container out of the box. “Bob, what can you tell us about the book? That's the part I'm not quite sure about yet.”

 

“That book? That book is a grimoire. Glad you didn't let the big guy touch it. It would have eaten him alive, though, with that... Hey, Tony! Woo-wee. Niice.” Bob's skull bounced a little.

 

“Gotta be the worst kept secret in the world.” Tony muttered.

 

“Well your crack to the shopkeeper didn't help, Tony. 'Eyes like the sea after a storm.'” Tim couldn’t help but jab at his coworker.

 

The others in the room laughed a little, but Gibbs turned to Tony with an inscrutable look.

 

“Sorry Boss, won't happen again, Boss.” Tony dropped his gaze and mumbled, unsure of the reaction he'd get.

 

“Don't apologize, DiNozzo.”

 

“I know, Rule 6.”

 

“Nope. Rule 5 actually.” Tony looked up in surprise. “Although Four kinda comes into play too.”

 

The other wizards were confused, but the team watched the two carry on an entire conversation in small snippets of words and meaningful looks. “It's a bit late for that. It was – I wasn't trying to ...”

 

“Get that, DiNozzo. Not important. Just woulda been nice t' know.” Tony nodded. He understood what he was saying.

 

“Right, Boss.” And with that, it was settled. If they were somewhere else, he would have moved over, embraced the man, buried his nose in his neck and stayed there. He let his eyes say so, and Gibbs nodded quickly before gesturing back to the box.

 

“You were telling us about the book, Bob?” There was a tiny hint of derision in Jethro's tone when he said the skeleton's name.

 

“Oh, right, Gibbs.” Bob's skeleton wobbled happily for a minute, then he continued. “It was written about 1353 by a member of the White Council as a family grimoire. Every family had one in those days. It was how 'spells' got passed down. Nowadays, at least here in the US, we have a tendency to take a freer approach with our magic...” The skull spun around, and noticed the agents all standing. “You might want to sit down for this. It's a long story.” They all complied while he continued. “But it used to be that each family had a specialty and they handed them down father to son, mother to daughter. Or however worked for that family. They had to keep them pretty hidden, because in the cultures where they _were_ respected, they were afraid of the knowledge getting out to warlocks. In the other cultures, they were afraid of losing their heads.” Bob made a realistic snick sound, and the wizards all flinched.

 

“Programmed response. How intriguing.” Ducky murmured. He gestured for the storyteller to continue.

 

“Well, not all families have enough people in them to keep populating themselves safely, so they have two options.”

 

“Marry outside the family or ...” Tim gestured, not wanting to say the harsh words.

 

“Inbreed.” Gibbs wasn't afraid of the hard stuff. _He never is_ , Tony mused.

 

“Exactly, Big Boss!” Bob's voice rose in pitch, and Tony winced at the shrill tone.

 

“Bob. Don't have to break my eardrums to tell me you're excited.” Tony scowled.

 

“Right, Boss. Back to the story.” Bob turned toward the grimoire. “This particular book was carried around by a family called the Walleises. They were a Scottish family... probably closely related through marriage to your Langtry family, Tony.” Bob said, turning back toward the wizard.

 

“Great. So, when I cut off his head, I can say, 'Gee, sorry, cuz!'” Tony's head flew forward with the force of the headslap.

 

“Pretty much.” Bob agreed. “Whoa. Transfer!” He grinned, which was a scary look for him, and continued, oblivious to the varied expressions around him. “So, the Walleises intermarried for years, getting scarier and crazier as they went on...”

 

“Blacks and Malfoys...” It was Abby this time.

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” The people who caught the reference shuddered, and Ducky and Jethro looked confused. “From Harry Potter, oldsters.” There was a thunking noise and quiet snickering broke out as Bob rocked forward from Gibbs' headslap. “Whoa. Okay. I am _so_ sorry, my esteemed memsahib.”

 

Carlos let out a low whistle. “Much more effective than a hammer. Think I'll tell Ha – ” He paused, and winced. “If I see him again, I'll add it to the list.”

 

“Along with 'what the hell were you thinking', and 'oh, my God, are you okay?'” Molly groused.

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Carlos grinned, but his eyes told a completely different tale.

 

About that time, McGee's phone rang, and he went down to get the food. He came back up, and passed around everyone's food.

 

“Might as well finish while we're stuffin' our faces, Bob.” Gibbs commented, opening his bag to pull out the tacos there. He gave Tim an assessing gaze, and then a sharp nod. Apparently he liked the choice Tim had made for him.

 

“Right.” Bob's eyes flashed in an approximation of a nod, and he continued. “So, the Walleises – which, Doctor Mallard, are an offshoot of the Scottish Clan Wallace, kept intermarrying and producing, getting crazier and crazier... then about the 1800s, they died out. Completely. Aided by the steel blades of the White Council and a couple of them blew themselves up in strange experiments involving fire, mordite – and some other things I really don't want to think about. And this is _me._ ” All of the wizards shuddered again.

 

“Bad, I take it?” Gibbs asked, after swallowing a mouthful of taco.

 

“Oh, yes, Gunny sir.”

 

“Bob!” It was Tony this time. He was tired of Bob twisting his lover's tail. “Gibbs, Agent Gibbs, or Boss. No more.”

 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Tony was sure the skeleton would have saluted if he could have. He rolled his eyes, and went back to his combo plate.

 

“So, the book was hidden away for nearly a century, never seeing the light of day, until a warlock who was buried deep in the bowels of the White Council libraries found it. I personally think that it's probably possessed by a member of the Walliese family and twisted his head.”

 

Tony growled. “Fucking Peabody.”

 

“Bingo, Boss. Fucking Peabody.” Bob's skull nodded this time, and everybody looked at Tony for explanation.

 

“Alright, boys and girls, story time. Now, I wasn't the only one there. Molly and Carlos – and Bob, I suppose – have parts they can add. But I _was_ there for part of it. Remember that time I 'went on spring break?'”

 

“Which time, DiNozzo?” Gibbs wanted to know.

 

“The latest one, Boss.” He turned to face the man. “Stuff was getting weird there, and Grandpere was worried. So, I took a trip to Edinburgh to see him. It was weird playing Normal in the Council Halls, but …” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. “Anyway, it's like this. So, Peabody gets ahold of this book, and he starts...”

* * *

He had just finished the story when he heard a loud buzzing sound. He looked around, and considered what it could be. “Did we specify what the alarm would be, guys?” Carlos shook his head, and Molly did too.

 

“I set mine to be a series of flashes to tell me which one it was.” Molly explained her system.

 

“Notes on a scale.” Carlos followed suit.

 

“Dammit.” Tony groused. “Well, Boss, I think the lady kept her promise.” He sighed. “Just don't know which one it is. I suppose I could follow the noise...”

 

“Gear up. All but Duck and Abs. Sorry, Abs, I know you want to go, but...” Gibbs grabbed his bag, his gun and his wallet, and then strode over to her, pulling a pigtail.

 

“But I'm safer here, and I need to get back to work anyway. And I can talk to Ducky if I need to get a hold of you Merlin type people, right?” She grinned widely, and bounced a little, sipping on the Caff-Pow that Tim had inevitably bought with the meal.

 

“Of course, Señorita.” Carlos bowed deeply, nearly hitting his head on the desk.

 

“Ramirez!” Gibbs barked, scowling at the senior wizard.

 

“Si, Jefe?” Carlos turned, and stood straight, then bent to gather the things he'd scattered around.

 

“Quit displayin' for my tech, and get yer ass in gear!”

 

“On it, Boss.” He winked at Tony who scowled a little bit before making sure all his supplies, mundane and magical, were ready.

 

Gibbs tossed him the keys. “Rule 38.” Everybody who knew that rule groaned. Including Tony. However, it made sense.

 

“Alright, Gibbs. I'll drive one of the cars, take Gibbs and Molly with me. Carlos, you ride with the others. I'm not quite sure where we're going so don't let them argue too long about who's driving. Wait...” He paused, sat his bag on his desk, then reached up to yank a hair out of his head, wincing as he did. “There. If you need it, you've got it. Keep track of me if you get lost.” Ziva and McGee just stared at Tony for a moment, then nodded. Gibbs was already heading for the elevator. “Probie – Molly, that is, would you grab Bob, please? He's in your care unless we need him. That way, you're a unit. If you need to go back, for him or for any other reason, you keep a hold of Bob. Got that, Bob?”

 

“Boss, if I stick with her for too long, there's that pesky transferal of authority.” Bob kept talking as they moved.

 

“Chain of command,” Gibbs commented from where he was holding the elevator open for the Normals. “Doesn't matter. You listen to her, she listens to him, he listens to me. Same thing. Get downstairs, DiNozzo.” And the elevator closed.

 

“Fuck. Never thought I'd see the day I missed the elevator.” Tony sighed, looking wistfully at the door. “And I had such …” He reached up and headslapped himself. “Right. Focus on the case, Anthony.” With that, he and the other two Merlins traipsed down the stairs, Tony turning his head from side to side to attempt to follow the sound. “She had to make it bees.”

 

“Bees? What's wrong with bees?” Molly asked, peering around to see if she could spot what made her temporary mentor so jumpy.

 

“Tell you in the car. Long story.” Tony directed them toward the sedan, and headed out to find the gate.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take them long to find the Way he'd used, and they calculated among them how far to start looking. Tony frowned as he walked through the alleyways of the run-down area the perp had chosen to exit from. It was pretty close to where they had found the first body. Gibbs was walking a parallel alley, then they'd meet in the middle to 'discuss' which way to go. Molly was behind him, or so he hoped. She'd veiled, not wanting to be visible just yet. He hoped that by letting her follow veiled, she'd listen to his orders on everything else.

 

“Boss...” She whispered, coming close enough for him to feel her breath on his neck. “Boss, I think he's close. I don't know why, but I just get this …”

 

“Gut feeling?” Tony turned his head just enough to whisper out of the side of his mouth to his apprentice.

 

“Yeah. Something like that.” He felt her move back and he nodded, wondering where he could be.

 

He had a thought, and pulled the stone out of his pocket, intoning the words and Name to contact his lover. “Boss...” He whispered. “Isn't this near that second club? Could he be grabbing people coming out of that ...”

 

“Could be, DiNozzo. Good thinking. You think it needs to be a woman? Or military? Ask the bonebrain, wouldya?”

 

Tony chuckled and started to move up the alley a little more, letting Molly hang back and get the information from Bob. Since she'd stepped up so close, he could Hear her breath a little better in that weird, once-in-awhile thing he had, and it reassured him.

 

However, focusing on Molly, Tony totally missed the set of footsteps coming from between the buildings in his blind spot. It was a complete tactical error, because the next thing he knew, he felt a prick to his arm, and fell to his knees woozily. He heard Molly calling out his name, but it seemed to be through a thick, roiling fog. He mumbled something about sealegs and floating again, but it didn't make sense to him, and he was the one saying it. After a few more seconds of seeing colors and hearing noises he was sure were hallucinations, he blacked completely out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys! Tried to get things resolved, but couldn't. It's longer, though.

He awoke quickly, but couldn't move anything. He was tied up, splayed out much like Ensign Rebecca Cruze had been. He tried to say something, to call up his magic, to fucking move, but couldn't do anything. Whatever the perp had given him held him fast. It was probably a muscle relaxant. And the way medicines had a tendency either to not work at all or to work too much, he was probably here for a long time. He couldn't even open his eyes to look down at his skin. The only reason his eyes were wet was because they were closed. He didn't remember closing them, and assumed that the man had done so for him. It was almost like being a doll. He was sure the bastard was going to move him – _fuck. The bastard had raped Cruze at least once, and_ _ **made**_ _her like it._ This was not going to be fun. No fun at all. 

There was one thing he had that Johnny Dirtbag didn't know he had. After Peabody had messed things up, they started issuing around a book. Kind of like how Kemmler's book had been passed. Except this one detailed mind magics, and how to recognize and defend against all sorts of intrusions. It was called, “The Fourth Law and All of Its Myriad Disguises”, and no one knew for sure who had written it. He had read it, and used some of the techniques in interrogation. As a 'Normal', he couldn't tweak anybody's mind, but he sure as hell could psyche them out when he talked to them. Make them think he really didn't care. Or that he cared too much. He spent a little time setting up a few landmines here and there. None of it was too complicated yet, but it would be enough to test his opponent's skill. Hopefully, it was enough to keep him at bay for a while. After spending all of his already less than full energy on the task, he fell gratefully back into the darkness, this time to sleep and recover his energy for the confrontation he knew was coming.

He heard the man come nearer to him, and woke slowly, testing his abilities by trying to open his eyes again. His eyelids moved slowly, sluggishly, but it was an improvement on complete darkness. He wished he could wipe the sandy feeling out of his eyes, but decided not to try. Taking stock of his location, he groaned inwardly. He lay splayed out in nearly the same position next to the same building that Cruze had been near. He wondered at the significance of the building and considered what might be on the other side of the Nevernever here, or what could possibly make this place so important. However, he did deduce one thing from the similar location: Johnny Dirtbag was going to use him for a sacrifice to open the gates, just like he'd tried to use Cruze. _The only reason it didn't work with Cruze was that he got too angry at the wrong point in the ritual._ _ **Or...**_ _she broke free from whatever-the-hell he'd done to her._ The latter was a strong possibility, and Tony liked it. It meant that he had a chance of surviving. And with his training (both magical and Mundane), he might be able to turn this around on the attacker. He ran through the possible scenarios in his head, and waited for the man to come nearer. The first volley could conceivably come during their soulgaze.

* * *

“Sitrep!” Jethro barked, channeling all the fear and anger he felt for his lover into his voice. The wizards jumped, but his team just eyed him cautiously, and shrewdly. They knew him well enough to know what was going on. _Damn fool told all of 'em. Never could keep his mouth shut._ He rolled his eyes and waited for the report.

“His – ahh – He's not responding to the rock thing, so you said, Boss, and I can't trace him through that,” McGee said, looking at the map up on the big screen. The wizards sat behind Tony's protective wall. “We lost him right about – here.”

Ducky and Abby had come up from their respective caves after finishing up the work they absolutely had to do. “Isn't that only two blocks from where we found the poor ensign, Jethro?” Ducky asked, moving to point to the intersection of buildings.

Jethro caught Molly mouthing his name to Ramirez, and shook his head imperceptibly. “Yeah, you're right. You two think he'd go back there t' do the same thing?” He certainly hoped not, and tried unsuccessfully to hide the terror in his eyes.

“He might, Boss.” Carlos was all business now. “There are several parts to rituals that make them work. First is the setup. Then, the location. Not always the same, but a lot of times, yeah, it can be location based. Then, the intent, then the execution.” He ran down the list of the parts as though he were teaching an apprentice, which, Jethro mused to himself, he pretty much was. At least in these matters.

“Why that location, Carlos?” Abby asked, chewing on a black-painted nail and swirling her Caff-Pow in her other hand. “Why pick that spot particularly?”

“It could be where it intersects with the Nevernever, it could be a central point to something...” Carlos frowned. “Molly, pull Bob out.”

“Si, Jefe.” It was obvious Molly had been working with Carlos for a while now. “Are you – What are you thinking, Carlos?”

“I'm thinkin' that he may be able to identify exactly who we're dealing with and figure out what kinda time frame we're looking at. I want to go right away but I can't without a little sleep, or something. But, if he's in danger of going straight through that ritual...” He shuddered, and consulted with Bob. “Bob says it's right in the center of an old section of town. It used to be a specific point for a lot of the less savory activities. So, it'd be a good place to call out an Outsider with evil intent.” _Fuck._ Not what Jethro wanted to hear. Not at all.

“Not sleepin' until I find that bastard. I need t' get you good and pissed, Ramirez, I'll do it. No way in _hell_ I'm lettin' him go through that, and not just 'cuz...” He waved his hand sharply, and turned away, hating the prickling he felt in his eyes. “ _Dammit!_ ” He slammed his hand on his desk. “Not doin' this again.”

Carlos and Molly jumped, but the rest of the team looked on at him with understanding. That almost made it worse. “Jethro,” Ducky began, but Gibbs cut him off.

“Not now, Duck. I'll deal with it after we find this bastard.” He turned toward the wizards and the now-visible skull. “He gonna be able to pull off a second attempt in one day? Surely the bastard's gotta get a little sleep himself.”

“That is a fair point.” Jethro nodded at Carlos' comment. “So, maybe we crash for a few and wake up around dawn? Catch him before he ...” He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Sounds like a plan. Carpenter! Go bunk down with Abby in the lab. Duck, y' mind sharin' your table with Ramirez?” He looked between the men.

“Not at all, Jethro. What is the phrase? _Mi casa es su casa._ Well, in my case, _Mi mesa es su mesa_ , but it's the same idea, I do believe.” Ducky chuckled and gestured to the wizard. “Come on, then, Carlos It's not the most comfortable place to rest, but it certainly beats the noise and such up here. Oh, yes. You need to take the stairs, don't you my boy? I do believe I shall join you. Do you know, one time when I was ...” Jethro tuned out the 'rest of the story' as the two men started down the stairs to Autopsy.

“C'mon, Molly. I have a futon, and a Bert. I'll share.” Abby started to head toward the elevator, and then frowned. “Actually, let me go power down all my babies. I wouldn't want you to blow them up.” She smiled, and bounced into the elevator. “Just come down, and I'll let you in when I'm done.” The door closed, and Molly let out a soft chuckle, heading to the stairs herself.

Jethro turned to McGee. “Tim, if you want to go home for a few hours, feed your dog, stuff like that, go ahead. Just be back here early.”

Tim shook his head. “I already called Sarah. She's on her way to feed Je – the dog, and I'll be fine crashing here. Everybody's got a buddy but you, Boss.” He snorted, maybe at his own initiative, and got ready to lay down behind his desk. “I know it's like an elephant in the room, Boss, but I won't leave you alone while he's – there. Someone's gotta watch your six.”

Jethro was touched, and he closed his eyes for a moment then nodded. “Thanks, Tim. Get some rest. We'll catch this bastard tomorrow.” _Hopefully before he does anything to my Tony,_ he added mentally, moving to make his own preparations.

* * *

Tony lay there, waiting for the moment to come, and was surprised when all he felt was another prick to the arm. _Dammit!_ He caught a quick glimpse of the man's face before he reached up to close Tony's eyes again. _I was right. Stupid mullets._ He snorted and used the rest of his energy to set up a few more traps and mines before the meds kicked in and he drifted off to an unwilling sleep.

When he awoke again, he felt better. The rest, though not naturally induced, had the benefit of restoring his magic to full. He thought about kissing Jethro in the car last night after setting the ward-stones, and his magic sang a little more. He grabbed that memory, sticking it in two or three places throughout his mental maze. It might be a good 'powerup', as McGeek might say.

* * *

Jethro was dreaming. He was replaying the soulgaze over and over again in his mind. There was a little boy sitting on the ground, drawing in the dirt. A voice spoke derisively over his head. “You're a good-for-nothing. You'll end up in the gutter some day. It's no wonder your mother died. She wanted to get away from you.” He heard the slurring in the voice, and knew that Senior spoke through an alcohol-induced haze, but it didn't make the words any less effective.

Around him, he heard other voices, including his own. “Sorry, McGee. He's still alive.” He winced every time he heard that one. He'd never have made the joke if he would have known. _Hindsight is always 20/20, dumbass._

On the walls around the little boy, Tony's awards and accolades stacked up, dust on them showing how often anyone paid attention to them. Diplomas, degrees, honors from his various PDs – even a couple framed statements he'd made to Tony himself, laid out in bright, huge letters – poster style, hung all over the walls. Shelves held several kinds of sports trophies, fishing trophies that looked handmade and even a few small boxes that Jethro knew contained jewelry from devoted lovers. All of them were ignored and dusty, even showing a little bit of rust.

Movies played on the white screen, and the little boy would look up occasionally, laugh, quote with the movie, or tilt his head as though he was discovering something by hearing the words from the screen. Sometimes, Jethro recognized the movie, sometimes it was scenes from Tony's life. It didn't matter; the little boy watched avidly as though he found everything important right there. _Maybe he did._

 _Tony was right about this crap not goin' anywhere_ , Jethro mused as he woke up with tears on his cheeks again.  _Gotta make it right. Gotta find him before the bastard can hurt him any more. Then, I'll show him how much **he's** worth. Not some paper, not some silver thing up on a shelf._ With a soft sigh and a furious gesture to wipe his face, he tried to get back to the few hours' needed sleep. 

* * *

When Tony finished setting up his defenses, he pondered what to do for offenses. He considered several different plans, discarding every one as too obvious. Finally, he went with his heart, remembering his soulgaze with Jethro. He planted snipers in various places, covered them with ghillie suits and other camouflage, and waited patiently for dirtbag-de-jour to return. 

It didn't take very long. The sun was just barely coming up, and if Tony would have had control of his muscles, he would have moved to find a patch of sun to warm up in. As it was, the sun was just peering around the buildings when he heard the footsteps come back. He felt his eyes forced open, and then, green eyes met brown. He was drawn immediately into a soulgaze. 

_He was in an old-fashioned hunting lodge. The sky was just lightening, and the room was warm – at least physically. An old, gray man sat in a rocking chair, pipe in his mouth and eyes on the boy in the corner. “Joey, y' bastard! Y'got t' control yer temper! If ye cannae, we'll never get the Lady tae visit us. Ye want her tae visit us, donna ye?” Joey, presumably the boy in the corner, the perp, nodded, and the old man started ranting again. “If she comes, she'll give us all back our power. We'll be the rulers of the moors again, me boy.”_

It was short as soulgazes went, but it was definitely telling. The man in the old chair had to be the spirit from the book, and The Lady, at least as a name for an Outsider, was a lesser deity who would inhabit those who followed her ritual. To the letter. That was both good and bad. Bad because it looked like he'd probably gotten it right. With old Mac there directing him, he probably had. However, the plus side was that it wouldn't take much to throw the ritual off. He wondered if that's what the ensign had done, and whether that's why he got so angry with her.  _It must have been._ He sighed, or would have if he had more control, and waited to see what would happen next. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I hate long, wordy author's notes. But this chapter requires it. I wrote this chapter in a very different style than anything I've written in a long time. It has a completely different feel to it, and that's intentional. Some of the themes in this chapter could be kind of rough for some readers. Mention of rape, abuse, and several other kinds of violence, mostly in passing.

Jethro heard the alarm just as it went off, and stood up, shaking himself. It was just dawn, and it was time for them to roll if they wanted to catch the scumbag before he went through with the ritual. He stepped briskly over, laid a gentle hand on McGee's shoulder, and shook. “Tim. Time to get up. Y' got a go-bag?” 

“Yeah, Boss. Gimme a minute, and I'll go clean up. Go wake up the others.” Jethro snorted at his probie's words, and nodded.

“Alright, McGee. Good idea. I'll meet you at the cars.” He rolled his neck around, getting the kinks from sleeping on the floor out of it. He stepped into the elevator and used the few moments to get his emotions under control. _And this is why I came up with Rule 12._ At least one of the reasons why. He sighed, and headed toward the Lab first. A good Abby-hug would not go amiss, though he would deny it to anyone who asked. He smiled at the thought of his lab tech. 

“Rise and shine, ladies!!” He called out his warning before entering the lab, not knowing whether Abby or Molly were sleeping in less than presentable gear. “Time to get a move on.”

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!” There was the enthusiasm and joie de vivre he needed. “Gibbs. Oh, Gibbs.” She took one look at him, and wrapped her arms around him. “You'll get him back and then you can headslap him for being so stupid before you kiss him silly. Then you need to take him to bed.” 

“Abby!” Gibbs blushed. 

“Well, you do! Now that you've figured everything out, you need to. I mean, Tony's not the kind of guy you should wine and dine first, Gibbs. He really needs to know how you feel and for him ...” 

Gibbs cut her off with a finger to her lips. “Know that, Abs. Intend to make him feel everything. But gotta go save his sorry ass, first. Carpenter!” He barked toward the room. “You up yet?” 

Molly stumbled toward him, blonde hair rumpled and sticking up everywhere. “Morning, Gibbs. Did you get any sleep?” She looked at him through narrowed, sleep-worn eyes. 

“Little bit, yeah. You be ready in ten?” He gazed at her and tilted his head.

“Sure.” She nodded and headed back toward the room, not even saying a word to Abby. 

“Abs, you wanna ride along? Might be some help.” He waited for the explosion. 

“ _Giiiibbbbss!!_ Of course I wanna go along. Let me pack my mace and my taser and my knuckles, and let me grab a couple of things that might help Tony. Molly! Do you guys use chocolate like Harry?” She bounced back into the lab, then as an afterthought, she yelled back, “We'll be out before the ten is up, Bossman! C'mon, Molly. Hurry up.” 

Jethro laughed, and turned to head to Autopsy. 

He knocked gently on the doorjamb before stepping in. “Duck? You awake?” He peered in, and saw the young wizard stone-still asleep on one of Ducky's tables. The older man himself was seated at his computer, typing something out. “You can use that with him here?” 

“Oh, yes, quite. As long as he's on that side of the room, my electronics are safe. And he sleeps quite peacefully, as you can see for yourself. Is it dawn already?” 

“Yeah, Duck. Tell me you got some sleep?” He moved over and set a hand on the man's shoulder. Ducky was a good friend, and he wanted to at least _try_ to show a little more appreciation for the people who made his life easier. 

“Oh, yes, Jethro. I got a couple hours. I don't need quite as much sleep as you younger folk.” He smiled. “Was there something else on your mind?” 

“Know me too well, Duck. Wanna come along? Invited Abby, cuz I think the two of you would do some good. He might need ya.” Jethro ran a hand tiredly over his face. 

“Oh, of course. I'd be honored to come along, Jethro. I suppose that news is what caused our goth girl to squeal so loudly? I could have sworn I heard her all the way down here.” He chuckled.

“Well, we were in the hallway. Wasn't sure Carpenter was decent.” Speaking of... “Ramirez!” He barked, and Carlos sat straight up, hands out in front of him, green fog starting to stream from the tips. 

“Jethro! You know better than to startle a soldier.” Ducky moved toward Ramirez. “Oh, my dear boy. You are quite alright. Jethro sometimes forgets he's no longer a Drill Instructor.” 

Carlos looked down at his hands sheepishly. “DI, huh? That explains quite a bit, Jefe.” He inhaled, and let his magic slowly slip back into place.

Jethro looked startled, and nodded. “Won't happen again, Ramirez. You be ready in five?” 

“Yeah, I think I can do that.” He nodded to the agent, accepting his words for the apology they were. “Molly up?” 

“Yup. Woke the girls up first. Give 'em time to put their face on.” Both men chuckled at his phrasing, and prepared for the day. 

* * * 

Joey's first tactic was fear. He delved into what he must have seen in the soulgaze: offering up Jethro telling him he was disappointed, dying, turning his face away, kissing that damn lawyer – it was a pretty effective tactic. Except for one thing. When the specter wandered too close to the center, it was Jethro's kisses that Tony remembered, and Jethro's sniper rifle shooting his sorry ass down. That attack failed. Tony countered by throwing spitwads and paper balls at him. Light stuff, but intentionally so. He threw at him from all sides, knocking him in the 'head', the 'ass', and the 'chest'. Each crumpled paper became a page of the grimoire, burning on contact. Tony could hear the screams of the spirit at the desecration of his family's ancient book. The score after the first round was Tony: 1, Joey: 0. 

Joey then decided on despair. This was one that Tony had decided to watch out for particularly, because he knew he was susceptible to it. Senior's voice boomed over him, telling him how disappointed he was, how sorry he was Tony was even born, how his mother must have really wanted to get away from him. All of which had been said at one point or another. But Tony had prized deeply into his memories, remembering the look in Senior's eyes when he'd said goodbye, remembering the “I love you, son” that warmed him for days, remembering how Senior had said something offhandedly in a conversation recently about how he could never do Tony's job full-time, because it was “damn stressful, and how the hell do you put up with it all day long, son?” Tony used quotes from movies about how cops kept the streets clean, the tripe that all eventually sounded like, “oh, sir, you're so brave!” to unsuspecting ears, and laughed at the stupidity of listening to a drunk man when even Danny had told him he was too good for the job. After a while, the scumbag tired of using that tactic, and backed off, probably preparing for another assault. Tony stepped into the breach, this time using his voice to try to put the spirit to sleep. He sang softly, lullabies coming easily. Though it made him sad in the core thinking about the possibilities he'd lost with Jeanne, he kept on singing, crooning old songs and half-remembered snippets of different tunes the help would sing when he woke up with nightmares. He figured if he could quiet the spirit, Joey might back away and forget the whole thing. He did like the fact that no one was trying to quiet him and his voice wasn't getting scratchy. He could hum Ol' Blue Eyes or Connick or little pieces of Bach and Beethoven... The tactic didn't seem to be working, so he stopped it. It was starting to lull _him_ to sleep, and that wouldn't do at all. However, it did have the positive side effect that Joey-and-his-rider weren't quite as angry or aggressive. If Tony remembered correctly, the Lady needed that anger and aggression to pull her in through the gates. Dampening it might be just enough to stop the ritual altogether. He wouldn't count on it alone, though. 

The next assault was lust-based. Parades of the women he'd fucked and left passed by, all naked, all moving sinuously, performing for him, calling him to come closer. He watched with a respect for their beauty, but behind every one of them, around every one of them, Tony saw baby blue eyes and a gentle, rarely-seen smile that reached into every single part of his soul and warmed him so deeply that he could smile and wave happily at all the naked women in the world, and just – pass on by. He didn't even need to pull up the other memories of Jethro's kisses. He had a decade's worth of memories of daily work together, of seeing what he now knew to be pride in his man's eyes. And, he recalled the fury in those eyes. He decided to turn that fury back on Joey. Recalling Gibbs' worst glares, given to perps or himself, he stared Joey straight down, fearless, annoyed and tired of fighting with an idiot. Oddly enough, even this weird tactic kept him going long enough that Joey backed away even further. Or so he thought. 

In actuality, Tony was backing the man into a corner. In that corner, there was a straw-covered trap straight out of Looney Tunes. The trap led to a Goldberg-style machine of mental pain. No one would expect the silly trap to lead to the darker stuff. They never did in real life; why expect it here? He kept edging the man closer and closer to the spot, waiting for the opportune time to push him into the trap and keep him there until Jethro could arrive for him and take him away. Then, Carlos could cut his damn head off. He let the thought of justice being done fuel his fury. It wasn't vengeance, it wasn't hatred. Just a heart weary of fighting evil and never seeing the results. Tired of holding on to a single string dangling over a vat of acid – _damn. Shouldn't have watched Batman that last time –_ and knowing that the only reason he wasn't falling in was because his lover, his partner, and his other friends had his six. Team and family and heart. That's what kept him sane. It _would_ be enough. Just like he “ _would not die._ ” That's all there was to it. It wasn't an option. Reality would bend to Will. Wasn't that what magic was about anyway? 

Tony realized he was waxing philosophical, and marked it down to the influence of the drugs Joey had stabbed into his veins. He wasn't looking forward to coming down from these. They were supposedly only affecting his muscles, but sometimes, even those would do weird things in his brain, making him say some really stupid things. Fortunately, there wasn't a whole lot Jethro didn't know. He chuckled, letting the thoughts of his team and Jethro especially keep him warm, keep him strong, and allow him just to _**push**_ the man further and further toward the hole. Finally, thinking about what could happen when he got out of here and into Jethro's arms again; remembering the incomparable scent of sawdust, bourbon, coffee, grease, work chemicals and Jethro's own musk; gazing deep into his sea-storm blue eyes and not worrying about a soulgaze; tasting coffee and bourbon on his lips, swirling his tongue around inside his mouth, pushing him back into the wall again, finding a place to park … Or better yet...

  
He let his mind really run away with itself. He imagined himself laying down on the bed in Jethro's room – he'd peeked once, at least – and Jethro was above him, lowering himself down to touch their skin together, stroking his limbs, easing his worries and stoking his ardor in simple movements... 

  
That was enough, apparently. He laughed outright as Joey and Mac fell headlong into the trap, their screams echoing internally and externally. He had stuffed all his worst nightmares down there. There were graphic memories of dead bodies from fifteen years of police work, there were epic stories of evil, betrayal, rape, torture, greed – you name it. Tony had seen a lot. He remembered a lot. He walked the wall between the sane and insane, good and evil, light and dark every dammed day. He _**knew**_ what people would stoop to, what they would aim for. He'd seen it.

  
And then, Joey's hold was broken. Tony slowly lifted his leg, making sure to press his knee in the exact right spot. He allowed the corners of his mouth to eventually turn up into a smile that would make his team proud. He slurred his words worse than Senior ever had on one of his binges, and growled. “That's what happens when you mess with...” He cut himself off. He wasn't sure which one of his roles fit this situation most: Jethro's lover, Senior Field Agent for NCIS' MCRT, Arthur Langtry's great-grandson, Wizard of the White Council, Detective for three different police departments; Anthony DiNozzo Senior's son, or … _Fuckitall_. “Me.” 

And just as he did, he heard several welcome voices. “NCIS! Freeze!” 

“Joseph Edward Wallace, stop in the name of the Wardens of the White Council.” _Damn. His whole Name._ Tony grinned, though he wasn't sure what was funny. Everything was. He started to giggle. 

“Got'im, Boss. He's a weak fucker. Got'im. 'Los, my trick worked.” He giggled some more. Then, as if that took all the effort he had in the world, he closed his eyes again. He sank into a deeper, more peaceful darkness, some of the demons hiding in the shadowy corners of his mind having been exorcised along with the warlock's presence. 

  
* * *  


Jethro drove like a bat out of hell. Nobody in the car complained, though, because they understood exactly what was going on. Ramirez had what his Marines had called his 'game face' on. Tim looked as stone cold as he'd ever seen the gentle man, and Abby's eyes were narrowed to black-rimmed slits. Ziva was driving the car behind, and Ducky and Molly were in that one with her. They'd decided unanimously to let the two speedy drivers take the wheel, because time was probably of the essence. Carlos had been telling them about the book and the preparations all wizards (and wizard born) were now taking, and Jethro thought he knew a little of what might be going on. 

_I hope I've given him enough ammunition to fight until I get there. I hope he remembers all the times I've been so damn proud of him... he seems to pick up on more than I expect..._  
He hoped that was still the case. They pulled up to the club and parked. Tim and Ziva were tasked with going into the club and tapping into any available resources there. It probably wouldn't take long, but again, everything was predicated on time. Carlos didn't know the perp, or how strong his attacks could be. Jethro had a gut feeling that Tony could kick ass there as well as he did in the outside world, but this was all so new and – yeah, _hinky_ to him that he couldn't be sure. He flipped open his holster, yanked out his gun, and nodded to the two men and Ziva with him. Abby, Ducky and Molly were the B-Team. They would wait back and make sure that the coast was clear before coming in. Ducky'd handle the physical injuries, Molly could check out the mental injuries – if there were any – and Abby was moral support and chocolate carrier. Even after Molly reassured her that, no, White Council wizards didn't need medi-chocolate, she still bought several candy bars to bring along to give him. He'd get a kick out of it anyway. 

They stalked slowly toward the spot, keeping all eyes open for any weirdness around them. Carlos had said something about being very careful exactly _when_ you interrupted a ritual and Molly had snorted. Jethro wanted to hear _that_ story for sure. He pushed all the excess thoughts back to the back of his mind and focused on finding his friend, his senior agent, his lover. “Clear.” He whispered as he checked the alleys along their route. He heard three similar responses, and they moved on to the next junction. It was slow going, but none of them wanted to be caught out again. Tony had the odd mix of Agent and Wizard, and that gave them all a little hope. They neared the site and heard painful screams. Jethro sped up, signaling to the other two to do the same. It might be risky, but he was willing to do whatever it took to keep Tony from dying to bring some damn demon into their world. He aimed his weapon at the spot where Cruze had lain, ran into the area, and called out, “Freeze, NCIS!” 

Carlos called out the man's Name, magically binding him with some sort of Warden handcuff spell. As they neared, they realized that it wasn't Tony screaming at all. It was Joey. The bastard was kneeling on the ground, holding his crotch, crying like a baby. Jethro shook his head, holstering his weapon again. He ran to his lover's side, looking down at him all splayed out in exactly the same place they'd found the ensign. He heard DiNozzo giggling, heard him mumble something, and then, he fell completely silent. That worried him. He started whispering in Tony's ear, not caring at all that the others saw, or that Tony wasn't even that responsive. He kept up his whispers, pausing only to verify with Carlos that he wouldn't be disrupting any magical mojo by releasing him from the position he was in. He moved to untie Tony's hands, rubbing his wrists gently to try to get the circulation flowing properly again. Then, he moved down to his feet. By the time he had him fully untied, Ducky and the girls had shown up. Abby was bouncing a little, but Molly was keeping her fairly focused on explaining the forensic side of their work. He'd have to do something for the young wizard later. 

“He's out, Duck. Was giggling a bit, then just – stopped. Been talkin' to him, got his hands and feet outta the damn restraints. Can't take 'im to the hospital. Know that, right? Maybe have Pitt come and look at his lungs, if he can... figure out some sorta non-tech way t' keep 'im breathin' if he needs...” Jethro realized he was rambling, and took a sharp breath. “Can't lose 'im, Duck. Like I said. Not doin' this again.” 

Ducky moved forward, patted Jethro on the shoulder, and knelt down to examine Tony. “It's quite alright, Jethro. I cannot say for certain, but by the looks of that young gentleman over there, he may just be exhausted in every single way. Mister Wallace appears to have injected him with some sort of muscle relaxant. That would explain the giggling. You know that Anthony does not react normally to any kind of medication. The drugs should not normally present a problem with respiratory function, but I'll give Doctor Pitt a call anyway, and see if he'd like to come over for tea. I don't know how we'll explain the fact that Anthony cannot go to Bethesda anymore.” He sighed. “Jethro, if you wouldn't mind, would you go see if Abigail will bring me my other bag? It's got a few more of my older tools in it, and might be just the thing to diagnose a wizard.” He smiled up at the Team Lead. Jethro snorted, catching his intentions, but letting them slide this time. 

“McGee. Stay here with Ducky. Don't wander off. You're on his six. Got it?” When Tim nodded, he headed over to Carlos. “You need anything to secure him? Handcuffs?” He held out his own, and Carlos took them, slapping them on the man. “Know you've got your own system, and I can see why. Just don't know how the hell I'm gonna write this one up.” Both men snorted, and Jethro moved to go get Abby to run Ducky's errand. He stopped Ziva on the way. “Ziver, keep an eye on the dirtbag. Know Ramirez' got 'im, but he so much as breathes wrong, kick 'is ass. Got it?” She nodded, and he walked over to Abby. 

“Carpenter!” He called her name after Abby had bounced off, keys in hand to find the other bag. Molly looked up at him, and he nodded once, sharply. “Good work.” He wanted to say more, but something held him back. Instead, he looked up at her, taking a chance, giving her the opportunity to change her mind, and drew her intentionally into a soulgaze. 

_He stood in the center of a big yard, fenced in around a huge, white house. There were children running everywhere, laughing and playing. A strong man sat in a padded chair in the yard, keeping his cane close by. He'd been injured and would probably never recover completely. When he looked toward the window, he saw a woman who looked remarkably like Molly watching them play with happy eyes, hands moving in a rhythm, washing and stacking cutlery and crockery. He could see just a little of another blond head, and every few seconds, he could see the whip of a towel flip across the corner of the window._

 _In the middle of this, unseen by any of them, Molly sat, just watching. Beside her was a tall, rough man, dark hair, dark eyes. He was dressed in a black leather duster and carried a long pole with some sort of etching on it. The man lay on the ground, totally unaware of the children playing, or even of Molly herself. Every once in awhile, the man would say something completely out of place. Both Molly and the other man would respond, and then everything would fall back into its previous rhythm._

Jethro had no idea what it all meant, but he understood that she was hanging on to his memory in the best way she knew how. He pulled her forward needing to reassure her that he understood. After a quick hug, he let her go, able to look her in the eyes again. 

“I get it, Jethro. Thank you.” He nodded, unsure of what she'd seen, but trusting it had expressed what he meant. 

“C'mon,” he groused. “Natives'll get restless, and we'll never get 'em home.” 

She snorted, and together, they headed back toward the others. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to dedicate this chapter to those who do stand on the wall for us: our first-responders, law enforcement, and military. Also, for an excellent treatment of the issues facing those who work in law enforcement, consider reading "I, Jedi" by Michael Stackpole. It has some good dialogue and thoughts about the subject. It's where I got some of this. The other place I drew from was a dream RP with a friend. It was very creatively done, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another weird chapter. If Gibbs seems a little OOC, it's partially that he saw Tony in a dangerous position, and partially the location they're in. I figure it lends itself to fewer barriers between them. Also, this is purely my own use of something Butcher's mentioned in GS. It's kind of a logical step, though.

Tony awoke and felt very similar to when he was in the hospital. He felt a breathing tube in his mouth, and an IV in his arm. There was something on his chest which was a little different, but his immediate reaction was still worry. He thrashed and growled, trying to make himself heard.

“DiNozzo!” A very welcome voice broke through his frantic thoughts and movements, and he calmed.

“That's very effective, Agent Gibbs.” He heard another voice. Brad. He tried to lift his non-stuck arm to get some sort of attention. “Buckeye. Stop it. You'll undo all my hard work. And with no nurses, it was just me, Mister Palmer and Ducky.” Gibbs cleared his throat. “Oh, and Agent Gibbs, of course.”

 _No – no nurses?_ He laid his arm back down, and looked directly at his Boss – his lover. 

“Vance found an old room here in the Yard set up as an infirmary. Guess you weren't the first Merlin t' need non-hospital care.” Jethro grinned at him and reached over, starting to touch him, then drawing back as if he were worried about appearances or permission.

“Don't worry about me, Gibbs. Doctor-patient confidentiality. And besides, this loser is so see-through, I could tell he wanted you when you walked out of that blue room.” Brad's voice was so smug. Tony wanted to reach up and slap him.

“Shu-uuh, Wohvv --” He lifted his arm again, trying to only show one finger.

“Oh, look at that, Gibbs. Thought you trained him better than that.” Brad teased.

“Thought I did too, but you're tauntin' him a lot. He's just respondin' in kind.” Tony's eyes were glued to that small smile. “Besides, if he wasn't out of it from the drugs, he'd be teasin' you with more words and fewer crude gestures.” He slid his chair closer, and Tony sighed happily when he started running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, that's true. You want that tube out, Tony?” Brad reached over and gestured to Gibbs. The older man grabbed Tony's shoulder and held him down gently. Tony relaxed into the grip and Brad was able to ease the breathing tube out fairly easily. He slid the mask on, and connected it up to a small whirring thing that seemed to be powered by...

“Ya step on it, Tone. Like an old sewing machine. Whoever sits here listens to your breathing and if it gets wheezy, we pump our feet for awhile. Give me a work out without havin' t' leave your side.” He grinned back down at Tony, and Tony lifted his arm again, trying to reach over to touch Jethro. “Settle down, Tone. I'm right here. You're not supposed to move a hell of a lot until all that crap wears out of you. Don't want you stretchin' the wrong thing and pullin' a damn muscle.” He leaned in more closely. “Want all your muscles in workin' shape. Wanna give you a real good workout when we get ya back on your feet.”

Tony shuddered and leaned into the touch, groaning his pleasure. Jethro blushed a little and sat back again, but moved his hand back up to stroke Tony's hair.

“Yeah. We had to dig out all sorts of old stuff for you, DiNozzo.” Brad grinned. “Alright. I think I'm going to go get some food and sleep. Ducky and Palmer should be in here soon. Don't let him get too wound up, Gibbs, and if he gets too wheezy or if the count drops below...”

“Got it, Pitt. You already explained five times.” Jethro groused, but Tony heard the care beneath it, and let it fill in some of the more empty places. He heard Brad leave, and turned his head slowly to look at Jethro again.

“Joey?” Tony struggled to get that word out, but he wanted to know what had happened to the bastard who tried to mind-rape him.

“Ramirez took him. I guess they're taking them all to Scotland now. Apparently it's easier than trying to get everybody out of their hidey-holes long enough to take his head.” He rolled his eyes, then leaned in again. “Tone—I gotta tell you somethin' while you're listenin'. Before Duck comes in and interrupts us. It's been a long time for me. Not just the feelin', cuz yeah, that's been a bit.” Tony must have looked confused. “Love ya, Anthony. Know it's not usually my thing to say, but seein' ya spread out like that – right where we found that DB...” He sighed.

Tony lifted his stuck hand slowly, making sure to keep it in range of motion. He turned a little to settle his hand on Jethro's leg. Jethro looked down at his face, and Tony caught his eye. He wanted to try something. He sighed, pulled all his emotions in, and whispered an Old Norse word that was basically, “ _Knock, knock_ .” 

Jethro jumped as though startled, and then he nodded. “Alright, Tone. I don't know what you're doin', but I trust you.”

That was the last thing Tony heard before he  _pushed_ just a little, and found himself inside Jethro's mind. 

“I wanted to talk to you, Jethro. I can't talk out there. I need the damn mask, apparently, and I can't move very well, so I wanted a way to come in and talk.” He gestured to the room, which looked like an odd combination of Jethro's bedroom, his kitchen, his basement and the bullpen. _All the important places._ Tony snorted. 

“This break your Fourth Law, Tony?” Jethro sat sprawled in his easy chair, coffee in hand, wearing his favorite red Marine hoodie and sweats.

“No. Not if I do this.” He held up his hand in a salute, something that was important to the both of them, stood as straight as possible and intoned, “I swear by my magic that I will not go where I am not invited, and I will not use my power to change your mind on any subject.” He dropped the sharp pose, and smiled. “That good enough for you, Boss?”

“Yup. Good enough for me. Dunno about your buddies in Scotland.” Jethro took a large gulp of coffee, then gazed down at the cup. The level of liquid hadn't dropped. “How's it doin' that?”

“ _It's_ not, Jethro. It's you. You've always dreamed of a bottomless cup of coffee, I bet. Your mind's just making it happen.” He grinned. 

“Fair enough. Now what'd you want to say so much ya pushed your way in here?” His eyes lit with mischief, and Tony sighed happily before moving to sit on the floor beside Jethro's chair.

“I wanted to answer what you were trying to say.” Tony leaned against his legs, and felt Jethro's hand in his hair again. “I wanted to tell you how I feel. We kind of jumped right into this, and I wanted to tell you just how I feel. Now that Joey's gone, I can relax a little, and heal...”

“Until the next dirtbag shows up, yeah.” Jethro snorted, carding his hair, pulling gently at it to soothe him.

“Yeah. Something like that. Anyway. I wanted to say that you've been there for me for as long as I've known you. I've never really done a lot with guys – little bit of experimenting in college, things like that. It was frowned on when I was on the Force, in any of those places. Now it's a little better, but then, if they found out you looked twice at men ...” He shuddered, leaning into Jethro's leg.

“Got that. Kinda the same in the Marines. Were a few guys here and there that we knew – but nobody said a damn thing, because they were tryin' t' do their best in a rough situation.” Tony felt him bend down, and kiss the top of his head. “Didn't do much after I enlisted myself. Same kinda thing.”

“Right. So, I know what to do and all that, but I want to learn all of it with you. I mean, what it feels like, things like that. I trust you, and I love you dearly, Jethro. When I was fighting Joey – I'll have to tell you about it some time, but I don't want to right now – I put reminders of our kisses around. They helped, but I found I really didn't even need them to …” He pulled his head slowly out of Jethro's reach, then stood up to pace. “I remembered all the headslaps. I remembered all the 'Good job, DiNozzo's, and the 'you're irreplacable's, and the – it wasn't sex, Jet. It was you. The way you carry the world and all its shit on your shoulders, but no one notices until they catch your eyes. The way you'll fight to hell and back for your team, for a damsel in distress, for a kid...” He shrugged, and threw his hands up. “I feel like a girl here, throwing all this out here, but then I remember I'm in your mind, and it's a little different. I wouldn't say all this out there, but in here, it works.” 

Jethro nodded. “Yeah. It's easier to say things here, I think.” He patted his lap. “Mind if we test how this works? Kinda curious if I'll feel it if I ...”

“Kinky, Jet.” Tony grinned and moved back over toward the older man. He paused as a thought struck him. “You don't mind that, do you? Me shortening your name?”

Jethro snorted. “Nope. Woulda said somethin' if I did.”  _Right._ Tony rolled his eyes, and sat down on the other man's lap. 

“Now I really feel like a girl,” Tony muttered.

Jethro reached underneath the Ohio State t-shirt Tony was wearing, and stroked his hand across Tony's chest. “Don't feel anything here...” He kept his hand moving downward, down inside the drawstring-tied sweats. “Huh. There's this here – Nope. Hate t' tell ya, Tone. Not a girl.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and tapped the back of Jethro's head. “Now you're just bein' a smartass.” He grinned. “That's usually my job, isn't it?”

“Well,you were gettin' all morose.” He shrugged. “Didn't invite ya up here t' gab.” He slowly ran his hand back up to Tony's chest.

“Well, Marine, what are you gonna do about it?” He leaned in and tilted his head, ready to kiss his lover, then was forcibly pushed out of his mind.

“Owwwwww...” Tony moaned, and glared over at Ducky. “Hurts.” He tilted his head and looked back over at Jethro, hoping the man would explain.

“Dammit, Duck. What the hell was that for? Wasn't doin' anything but talkin'.” Jethro rubbed his head. “Gave both of us a headache.”

Ducky huffed. “How was I to know it wasn't some sort of mutual catatonic seizure, Jethro? I have some experience in these matters, but I do not understand them completely. When I enter the room and am able to do a complete check of my patient, tell two stories with no interruption and then get no response from either of you, what  _should_ I do?” 

“Alright, Ducky. Made your point.” Jethro rubbed the side of his head, and then reached over to rub Tony's temples. “He invited himself over for conversation. You know how he hates not bein' able t' talk, and there were a few things...” Jethro kept the blush out of his face, but as he leaned in to rub Tony's other temple, Tony could see the tips of his ears were red. “Needed to get a couple things straight. Couldn't do that if he couldn't talk.”

“Anthony, that's dangerous, not to mention pushing the edge of your Laws, if I am understanding them correctly.” Tony just grumbled, trying to put his objection into words.

“Swore to stay outta dark corners and not t' twist anything, Duck.” Jethro replied.

“Well, at least there was that.” He seemed somewhat mollified.

“I found Miss Carpenter, Doctor Mallard.” Palmer's voice came echoing through the hallway.

“I told you to call me Molly, Jimmy.” Yeah, that was Molly. Tony grunted, and pointed toward her.

“Yeah. We'll do that, Tone.” Jethro's voice softened, as he seemed to grasp what Tony was trying to say. _God, I love this man._

“We'll do _what_ , Jethro? I'm not authorizing...” Jethro's glare cut Ducky off. 

“He wants Molly to explain it.” He jerked his head toward the door.

“Who wants Molly to explain what?” Tony tried to grin at the tone in the woman's voice.

“Tony wants you t' explain what we were doin'.” Jethro gestured to another chair nearby.

“I'm not your mom, and shouldn't your mom have explained that part already?” Molly's snarky comment made Jimmy gasp and Tony laugh a quiet, huffing laugh.

“Neither of our moms lived that long, Molly.” Jethro explained with a wry look. “And don't be a smartass.” He reached over and clipped her on the back of the head. 

“Yeouch. No wonder you all fall in line, Tony.” She grinned down at him. “Kinky.”

“Carpenter...” Jethro growled.

“Alright, fine.” She grinned and waited for someone to tell her what to explain.

* * *

Jethro explained, including Tony's promise. “Swore on his magic. I figure he'd keep that.” He snorted softly before continuing the explanation. His head still throbbed, but no more than it might after a day without enough caffeine, so he pushed it aside. He  _did_ keep his hands stroking on Tony's temples. 

“Oh.” Molly chewed on her lip as she thought. “Well, it's pushing the edge, but with the promise, and the fact that he um – knocked? I guess?” Jethro felt Tony nod.

“Yeah. Sounds right.” He interpreted the nod for her.

“Then, at least in my mind, it's okay. I mean, he did it clearly to communicate. I don't know what might have happened if he would have touched anything that you didn't want him to, but I don't think there was any harm, and his body seemed to be okay, right, Doctor?”

“Ducky, m' dear.” Ducky reiterated. “No, his physical form seemed oddly restful.”

“Well, that's an indication. If someone's doing something – what's that word Abby likes?” Molly grinned, when all three mobile men spoke the word at once. “Yeah. Hinky. That's right. Anyway. If he's doing something hinky, even if it's something he thinks is for the other person's own good, one or the other of them will show it. I mean. Tense muscles, straining limbs, that sort of thing. Usually, they both will.”

“Well, that's good to know. It did give me quite a scare, my boys. I don't mind if you do such once in a while, especially if it will keep you from thrashing around, Anthony, but do not overtax yourself or your magic. I cannot heal that.”

“Won't, Duck. I'll make sure of it.” Jethro reassured him. “'Sides, I think his magic bounces back pretty well in – certain circumstances.” Molly snickered at his words.

“That's one way of putting it, yes.” He reached over and clipped her again, this time not quite so hard. He forgot that his team's heads had gotten used to it. “For that, I'll finish what I was originally gonna say, Jethro.” Palmer blinked and looked up shocked that he let her use his first name. Jethro shrugged, and waited to hear what the woman would say. “If their bodies are rockin', don't come knockin'.” She grinned, and Jethro could feel his face heat up. 

“Oh, my.” Ducky looked between the two of them. “Really, Jethro? I thought Anthony was merely being his normal effusive self.”

“Nope, Duck. One of the things we're still figurin' out.” He pointedly kept his eyes focused on Tony, who was grinning, but wheezing just a little. He pumped the machine for a little while, waiting for Ducky to continue.

“Well. That's a development. What do you do about Rule Twelve, Jethro? I seem to remember it being written for a fairly good reason.” Ducky had been there during the fiasco with Jenny.

“Figured with him bein' a Merlin, lotta things weren't gonna be quite the same. Figured we could consider it an exception to the rule.”

“Well, I suppose that works logically, or you could merely say that you wish for it not to affect work. I know you and Anthony, for all his posturing and preening, would not let it affect your devotion to solving cases.”

Jethro moved his hand back up to Tony's head to calm his sputtering at Ducky's words. “Like that stuff, Tone. Makes me smile. Can't show the kids, but it's there.” Tony stopped sputtering, and huffed another quiet laugh.

“Molly... That is your full name? It's not short for something?” Ducky looked over at the young woman.

“Margaret, Ducky. But mom only calls me by my full name when I've done something stupid, or when she's pissy and can't find another kid to take it out on.” She gave a harsh smile, but snorted at her words. _I bet she gives those two no end of trouble,_ Jethro thought to himself, a snort escaping. 

“Would you mind if I called you Margaret? I much prefer to address individuals by their proper names.”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt.” Molly shrugged. “You won't yell it across the room.”

“Most certainly not. Now, as I was saying, Margaret, would you please explain to me how to get the two of them out of the situation without causing pain?” 

As Molly explained to Ducky, Jethro half-listened, but most of his attention was on the man in the bed. “Maybe he'll let us finish what we started, Tone.” He gave an evil smile, running his hand down to caress his face.

* * *

With a tired sigh, Ducky nodded. “I don't want to be in the room for this, Jethro, so I'll retreat to the next office and work on some paperwork. I do hope you'll exercise at least the barest amount of caution …” He paused as the younger three started laughing. “Oh, please.” He rolled his eyes. “Anthony, if you would please set some sort of trigger up for me to rouse you should I need to? Perhaps a touch to your right shoulder?” When Tony nodded, he strode out of the room. “Come along, Mister Palmer. We have those requisition forms to go through.”

“Fun.” Jimmy followed Ducky out, leaving Molly standing there.

“If you want, I wouldn't mind staying here, and I could just ignore you? That way, if you really do need to come out of it, I can pull you out? If you'd rather, I can go back and finish my reading.” Tony had given her a book that outlined some of the basic evidence collection procedures. He figured if she was going to be stuck with him, she ought to learn to work with them.

“Whaddya think, Tone? You alright with an audience?” He wasn't sure how this would go, but Jethro wanted to give Tony the opportunity to be safe if he needed to. They needed to finish the conversation and connect, whether they waited until they were completely alone in his bed, or whether it was just the appearance of being alone inside Jethro's mind. Tony shook his head. “Huh. Woulda pegged you the other way, Tony.” He snorted. “Think we're good, Molly. Why don't you go read, and we'll set up some sorta monitor thingy. If he needs to come out for some reason, he can.” He heard Molly's soft assent and her footsteps out of the room. His focus was entirely on Tony.

“You wanna try that again?” He smiled, lowering his head to press his lips to Tony's forehead. “You need eye contact, I take it? Here. Let me pull my chair over a little, make myself comfortable.” He realized he was getting close to rambling, but didn't care when it was just Tony. Abby was right. Tony needed to understand this. He felt a whoosh of warm – something cover him, and a soft push right at the center of his forehead. It felt like a knock on a door. He envisioned a door, and opened it, relaxing into the press of magic. “C'mon in.” He was drawn in, and there was Tony standing in the same place he started before.

He, too, was in the same place, holding that never-ending cup of coffee. He harrumphed, wondering if it defined him so much that it became a permanent fixture in his mental landscape.  _Damn well might,_ he mused. He set the cup of coffee on the table near the chair, and patted his lap again. “C'mere.” He waited for Tony to settle himself on his lap. “If you don't wanna do more than kiss, let me know, but I wouldn't mind ...” 

“Hell, no, Jet. I think my body could probably use a good dose of endorphins. Yours too.” Tony smirked, and Jethro resisted the urge to slap him. They were interacting as lovers, not co-workers, and he had to remember that. “Just remember that I'm wearing an easy-to-replace hospital gown. You're in your chinos, aren't you?”

“Dammit. Oh, well. Won't be the first time I've messed up a pair of work pants. Usually not my jizz, though.” He snorted. They did get into some weird situations investigating crimes. He tilted his head, lifted his hand to play with the hair at the back of Tony's neck, and gently pressed their faces together. He half-expected someone to pull them apart again, but it didn't happen, and he spent a long time just kissing, reacquainting himself with the inside of his lover's mouth.

He pulled back, and ran his hand underneath Tony's shirt, playing with his nipples, scratching the tips. “How long you leave us in here?”

“Two hours, give or take. Then, we'll go back out again.” Tony groaned, reaching his own hands over to stroke at Jethro's cheeks and tangle in his hair.

“You really wanna mess around in here, or just do some kissin'? I'm torn. Want you, but want the first time I make ya see stars be in my bed.” He frowned. “Then there's the whole mess thing.” He wasn't squeamish, or bothered by it, but it was a professional issue.

“We could wait. I just needed to spend some time with you, Jethro. I realized when I was fighting Joey that I had what I needed right here.” He drew Jethro back close, nuzzling him on top of his head. “Never felt like this before, Jethro. Don't know if that means it's love, or what.”

“It's gettin' there for me, Tony.” He grinned. “Not gonna say I expected it or that it's this huge thing, but ...” He struggled to find the way to explain it. “My turn t' be the girl, I guess.” He snorted, then continued. “With Shan, it was hot and heavy. We knew right away, and I took her t' bed pretty quick. Married her only after knowin' her for a short while. Drove Jack crazy. Dunno that he got over how fast we took it until we laid Kelly in his arms.” He grinned at the memory: Jack with tears making his eyes sparkle, and Shannon teasing him about holding the baby and Jethro just sitting there watching the whole thing, quiet and amused. “With you...” He tightened his arms around Tony, reveling in the warmth of the body on his lap. “With you, it's been buildin' like a volcano. Thought about you a little here and there, mostly while noticin' how damn good you are at your job. Was afraid of tellin' ya too much because I didn't want to say more than I wanted ya t' know.” He shook his head, then turned, burying his face in Tony's chest for a long moment, enjoying the scent of Tony's high-dollar shampoo, his aftershave, the scent of 'just Tony.' He pulled back again, trying to finish his explanation. “When ya soulgazed me, I saw some stuff, and started puttin' two and two together...”

Tony murmured something, and Jethro thought he heard, “... put it past an investigator...”

Jethro chuckled, and started his hands stroking again. “Not just what you felt, but that what I felt was big enough t' take a chance on. Got burned real bad with the exes. Not just the wives, but Jenny and Hollis too.” He sighed, trying to avoid those memories, but a couple pushed themselves to the fore. Diane swinging the golf club at his head. Jenny screaming at him when the stress of the undercover op got to be more than she could bear. Hollis messing with his tape and demanding to know why he hadn't told her about the girls. He shook a little with the remembered pain.

“S'alright, Jet. None of them are here. Just me. And I'll kick anybody's ass who hurts you, and Abby and Ducky'd kick _my_ ass if I was the one to hurt you.” Now it was Tony's turn to tighten his grip, and Jethro relaxed into it.

“Anyway. You, you're like good coffee.” He looked over at the still full, still hot, cup of coffee beside him. “Fill a place ...” He couldn't say more, just looked up at Tony and hoped the other man could read his heart in his eyes. He'd done so pretty often as it was.

“Really?” Tony's expression looked a little overwhelmed.

“Yeah, Tony.” And he leaned in to kiss him again. They spent the rest of their time there kissing gently, just enjoying the comfort of each other's company.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony was finally recovered; the medications were out of his system, and he hadn't hurt himself any more than a couple weird scratches on his skin like a baby who didn't have control of his muscles. Jethro teased him several times about that, only to get a glare and a pout in return. Neither man took those pouts too seriously at this point, but it did allow them to get a few moments alone here and there. Tony hadn't imposed since their one long meeting in Jet's mind. He much preferred real kisses to dream kisses, even if they both remembered them.

He stretched slowly, being sure not to exacerbate anything. He hadn't been wounded too badly, but Ducky and Brad were being very careful since they didn't have the technology they were used to reporting on every little thing. For the most part, Tony preferred it this way, and he thought Jethro might, too. It gave him a chance to check him over regularly.

“Ya ready to get outta here?” _Speak of the devil_ , Tony thought. Jethro strode into the room, crouched down to sit on his haunches, and leaned in to kiss Tony.

When he pulled away, Tony grinned. “That a rhetorical question?” He sat up slowly.

“Careful, Tone. Don't hurt yourself. Duck said ...” Jethro began to lecture him again, and Tony cut him off.

“I remember, Boss. 'Don't move too quickly yet. Let your muscles get used to working correctly again. Give your magic time to heal them. I can't monitor you, constantly, Anthony, so you must be very careful.'” He reached over to grab his clothes, his movements slow and intentional. “I got it. I really do. Much as I want to get all laid out and moving fast for you.”

“Tony,” Jethro growled. He'd stepped back to let his lover have room to dress, but moved in closer again to give him any help he needed. “I want that, too, but this is all so new to us.” They all knew they were overdoing the protectiveness, but as much as Tony appreciated the TLC, he also chafed under the restrictions. “Know you're itchin' t' be back t' normal. Just want ya there faster.” He reached up, doing Tony's shirt buttons for him, making it a part of the TLC.

“I know, Boss. Just tired of it.” He shrugged, and grabbed his jacket, pulling it on slowly, backing away from Gibbs' hands trying to grab it from him. “Dammit, Jethro! Let me ...”

“Alright, alright.” Jethro lowered his hands, and sighed. He knew he'd be doing the same thing, if the roles were reversed. So would Tony.

They walked out of the 'infirmary' room, and found themselves in the twisty maze of passages near the interrogation rooms. Tony kept track of where the room was. It was perfect for quiet conferences or whatever – away from prying eyes and tricky technology. It didn't take them that long to get up into the bullpen.

“You wanna read the report and sign off on it, _Boss_ , or you wanna go home and do it tomorrow?” Jethro held up the folder with the reports and paperwork from the case.

With a quiet snicker, Tony held out his hand. “Lemme read it and then we can go home. You'll take me home, right?” He grabbed the folder as it's handed to him, and looked up at the Boss to see a sheepish expression cross his face.

“Yeah. 'Bout that...” He paused. If this were Tony, he'd be chewing on his lip. Instead, he ran a free hand across the back of his neck, and avoided meeting Tony's eyes. “Duck says you need watchin' just for a bit. You'll be back t' causin' trouble in no time, Tony, but y' need someone on your six.”

“Got someone on my six, Boss. You.” He grinned, and then let it slide right back off his face when he saw the expression still on Jethro's face. “What'd you do, Boss?” He knew that expression. He hadn't seen it very often, but he had seen it, and when he did, it didn't always bode well.

“Got some of your stuff and took it over t' my place. Was gonna ask ya t' stay...” _And got busy doing other things_ , Tony figured.

“You stupid bastard.” Tony grinned, reaching over to grab his boss' shoulder gently. It was as much as he could do in front of the cameras. “If you want, I'd …” He paused, unsure if he wanted to put the words out there. “Well, um, you know I live in an apartment building. Might be easier on the rest of the residents if stuff didn't start randomly shorting...”

  


“Ya wantin' to move in with me, DiNozzo?” Jethro got the idea.

“Yeah, Boss, kinda what I was thinkin'.” He grinned. He opened his mouth to say more, then groaned as his eyes looked past his boss to see a familiar face walking out of the elevator. “Rule Thirteen at your Five, Boss.”

“Lawyer?” Jethro mouthed to him. Tony shook his head. “Fae?” Tony nodded.

“Lady Galera. What bringeth thee to my place of employment?” Tony smiled, ducking slowly into a half-bow, being careful not to strain the muscles Ducky had warned him about.

“I have a boon for thee. For thy services. It was learned what the warlock's true intentions were, and my Lady has seen fit to give thee an extra boon. Since thy service in dispatching him and suffering at his hand was so great.” The lady was in full 'human' form: wearing a yellow outfit with gold and black accents. The whole thing was classy, but Tony couldn't help but be reminded of her apine form.

Tony frowned, unsure of what to do. Something struck him wrong about the whole thing. He couldn't just say 'hell, no' without some sort of clear reason, and he didn't currently have one. He gestured to his desk. “It is a humble throne, madam, but it is all I have to offer. Please, would you care to take a seat for a moment, while I ponder my course of action?” He smiled at her, the sparkly, winning smile that was calculated to keep fae, wizards and women all at least semi-pleased with him.

She gave an enigmatic smile at his words and moved toward his desk, sitting in his seat like a princess ascending her throne. He'd never mention that to her, because it would require an equal compliment, but he could think it. He returned her smile, and then moved over to his boss' desk. “Jethro, would you mind coming with me for a moment?” He hated turning the tables like this on his boss, but he wasn't sure Galera would believe that a wizard would work as a subordinate to a 'vanilla mortal'. He also had this urge – neither new nor unbelievable – to protect his boss from the machinations the faerie world was built on. Like puns to Xanth, deals and trade _were_ the foundation of the faerie courts. It was why the Unseelie Accords were such a big thing.

A couple other agents in the room turned his way, and Tony grimaced, but held his ground. Jethro gazed unblinkingly at him, asking him a question with his expression, and Tony gave a quick nod, hoping he was interpreting it correctly. Ninety-five percent of the time, he was right, but it was that pesky five percent that had him worried. “Alright, Boss.” Now it was Tony's turn to gaze, and when he did, he caught that hint of amusement in Jethro's face. It cheered him, and he pulled him over to the corner where Gibbs had cheered him up the last time he'd called him 'Boss.'

When they arrived in the corner, Tony sighed. “She wants to give me a boon. I really can't turn it down. If she gives me a chance to name it, I have no idea what to pick. It's … it's like walking through a minefield with an iPod and a blindfold, Boss.”

“iPod?” Jethro looked up at him confusedly. “That those white music thingies Abs got us?”

“Boss! I'm pleased.” Tony grinned, unrepentantly jibing his boss.

“Focus, DiNozzo. You said she's like a lawyer.” His eyes ordered him to elaborate.

“Well, okay. Think of it like this, Boss. Marines are riflemen, right?” Tony frowned, and leaned back against the wall, waiting for Gibbs' response. When he nodded, Tony continued. “Okay. So, you were a Sniper and did some other things, maybe, but you were also a rifleman. No matter what you do, you're always a rifleman.” Jethro nodded again, not seeming to follow. “Okay. Faeries, Summer, Winter, Wyld, and that's Wyld with a y, Boss...” When the older man's eyes narrowed, Tony snorted and continued. “Right. Not important. What is important is every Fae from the little dewdrop fairies that look like lightning bugs all the way up to the Old Queens themselves – every one of them survives on deals. Now, it's not like you Marines, where you stop being a sniper and go home and fuck your boyfriend through the mattress, get up and be a sniper again.” Tony whispered that sentence, his face flushing slightly. Gibbs' did too for a moment. “Even that would include a deal. Even with someone you loved and were 'making this deal' with every night, it'd still be a new deal. Every time.” He ran his hand over his face in a show of worry. “I just don't know what she's up to. I know she's got to even the score, but if she likes me, she'll make a deal to keep me closer, and if she doesn't, it's even worse.”

Jethro was silent for a long time. “Borrowin' trouble, Tone. Don't. Let's see what she offers. I'll help.” He smiled ferally, and Tony's cock jumped. “Done a bit of wheelin' and dealin' in my time.” Tony remembered Gibbs' comment about horse traders. He grinned, showing a little of his own fire. “Atta boy, Tone. C'mon. Let's go see what she wants.”

The two of them strode back over to see the Faerie. “Let us hear the boon you are granting, Milady.” Tony nodded, still keeping his movements slow.

“Merely the means to thy further recovery. I have the name of the substances you were – injected with. In their various quantities.” They'd tried to figure out what the hell Joey had stabbed him with, but couldn't pinpoint the exact amounts.

“And then we are done?” Tony asked, carefully. “It shall be completed with this exchange?”

“I will be satisfied, yes.” Galera answered cagily.

Tony opened his mouth to accept, but Jethro shook his head quickly. “Will _we_ be satisfied? Can we know where you got the information, and how accurate it is? If it's just the names and percentages, we'll still have to have our lab tech do a huge job trying to figure out how much total.”

Galera seemed pleased by Jethro's interruption. “I do say, Wizard, that your consort is a pleasure to be around. Such a wise man.” She reached out, seeming to want to touch Jethro, but Tony shook his head. If she was going to consider him his consort, he'd take it very seriously. And that included not letting her touch him.

“Definitely. He's a brilliant man, and an excellent trader.” Tony let his face shine with the pride he felt. “Is that acceptable to add the total amount?”

“I believe that would fall within the range of acceptability, yes.” Galera smiled.

Tony looked over to Jethro and got a nod. “Then, we shall consider the deal concluded and the debt paid.” He could feel something sort of 'click' in his magic, as though someone unlocked a tiny padlock. He blinked.

“Are you certain you do not carry Fae in your veins, young one?” Galera looked over at Tony appraisingly, having noticed his reaction.

“Ahh. I think we've exchanged enough information for the time being, milady.” Jethro spoke up before Tony's words could catch him in another trade.

“Oooh, Anthony. I like this one.” She positively leered at Jethro.

Tony scowled for just a brief moment before using his undercover skills to clear the expression from his face. “May we have the information, please? I really ought to be resting, not having fully recuperated quite yet.”

Galera watched his face, snorting softly. “Indeed.” She grabbed a sticky note from Tony's desk, and hurriedly wrote down the names of the drugs and the amounts he'd been injected with.

“Thank you very much, Galera.” Jethro nodded a quick sharp nod, as though he'd just made a deal with Fornell. Galera returned the gesture, then stood.

“I shall see myself out. With this business concluded, we may not see one another for quite some time.”

Tony couldn't bring himself to feel too badly about that.

* * *

They found a small alcove by the stairwell. Tony dragged him over, and looked at him closely. He was tempted to open his Sight to make sure that he was okay, but he didn't want to go too far. He wasn't sure what he'd see, and there were consequences to doing things like that.

“Tony. I'm okay. She didn't touch me.” Jethro seemed mildly amused by his lover's actions.

“But she was leering at you, Boss, and I don't like it.” He pulled Jethro flush against him, uncaring of the possibility of discovery.

Jethro snorted and wrapped his arms around Tony, but it felt different than the close embraces they'd shared so far. Then he realized that his intuitive lover had changed the embrace to look like he was supporting Tony instead of molesting him. He snorted, and Jethro gave him that look. “She can leer all she wants, Tony. As long as she's not casting some sort of weird magic on me or touching me wrong, she's fine. She starts doin' that crap, she'll learn about the lead in my SIG.” This brought about another chuckle from Tony, and he relaxed, really needing Jethro's support now. “C'mon, Tone. Let's go give this information to Ducky and Pitt, and then we'll go home.”

Tony nodded at the practical advice, and they headed downstairs.

* * *

“Oh my. That's quite a cocktail, Anthony. It's a wonder you're still among us.” Ducky fussed as he looked down at the paper with the information on it. “Well, now we know what to give you to flush the rest out of your system.” He patted the autopsy table. “Come on, dear boy. Up you get.”

“You won't put an IV back in will you?” He rubbed his arm where he'd been stuck.

“No, Anthony. I merely need to inject you with a little bit of this …” He held up a bottle. “Consider it like charcoal for the stomach, if you will.” Ducky filled a syringe with the chemical and pushed up Tony's other sleeve. “Hold still, Anthony.”

“Yeah, Ducky. I got that part.” Jethro snorted, and stepped over to stand between Tony's legs to give him someone to lean on, should he need it.

“Just don't let him move, or move him yourself, Jethro.” Ducky cautioned. “I do not like doing this without the aid of the technology. I do not understand ...” He recited his earlier concerns with a frown.

“Got that, Duck.” Jethro copied his lover, and held Tony as Ducky stuck him with the 'antidote.'

“There. Now. You'll still feel the stiffness, but your muscles won't be as challenged by the impact of the chemical itself. It will burn itself out of your system a little more easily now.” Ducky nodded. “Do still be careful, because I cannot...”

Tony cut him off. “You cannot monitor me in the way in which you are accustomed, so that means any extra damage may take much longer to heal, magic or no magic.” He parroted Ducky, even getting his accent somewhat right, though he thought it was a little too much Sean, and not enough 'Don.' He chuckled at his own dumb joke, at least to himself. Jethro noticed and looked him in the eye. He shook his head and mouthed 'later'.

“Well, I say. I suppose I have been rather strident about my dislike for the primitive methods and archaic resources required to treat you Merlins.” Ducky turned to set the syringe down, and Jethro squeezed him an extra time. When Ducky turned back around again, his lover had pulled back and extended his arm to help Tony down. “Now, Jethro, do take care of our dear boy. It shouldn't take as long for him to reach wholeness, but I want you to use your excellent situational awareness to keep your eye on your young man.”

Tony grinned as those last three words sent a flush of red up Gibbs' neck and across his cheeks. He couldn't resist baiting his man, so he leaned in, and whispered, “ _Your_ young man. Hmm. I like it.”

“Tone.” There was annoyance and command in the single word, but the thing that caught Tony's ears was the small hint of pleasure behind it. He liked the idea, too. “Gotcha Duck. C'mon, Tony. Let's getcha home.” The two of them moved together, in the odd synchronicity they'd discovered early on in Tony's tenure, and headed out to get into the Challenger and go home.


	11. Chapter 11

Tony sighed a deep sigh of relief as they finally got to the car. “You know, Jet, I thought we'd never get out of there. I think the universe has been conspiring against us, sometimes.” He snorted, and leaned back in the seat of the Challenger, shifting just a little to make himself comfortable. “And ...” He gazed over at the other man with raw hunger. “I'm hungry.”

“Yeah, we'll get ya fed, Tony. Let me take care of you. I'll feed ya, give ya a shower, whatever you need.” Jethro pulled out of Navy Yard, driving his usual speed.

“No, Jet. You aren't getting it.” He reached his hand over, sliding it on to the man's thigh. “I'm _hungry._ ” He smiled ferally, even though he knew Jethro probably couldn't see it while keeping his eyes on the road. “I want you, babe. I want you so badly.” 

“Yeah.” The older man's voice dropped an octave, it seemed, and it gained a slight growl. “Yeah. Want you too. Don't wanna hurt you, though. Duck said...” 

“Screw what Duck said.” Tony snarled, crossing his arms. “I want you. Even if you just lay back and let me kiss you and suck you off, Boss, I need you. I need your touch. Besides, if you wanna get mercenary about it, the more magic around me, the less time it'll take to heal. There's somethin' about your touch that does somethin' to me. Need it.” 

Jethro's only answer was to speed up a little, weaving between an eighteen-wheeler and a small two-door number to get back over into the fast lane. 

* * * 

They got home, and Tony unbuckled his seat belt. Whatever had been in that shot had been exactly what he needed. Tony sighed as he opened the door and lifted himself out. He was still a little achy, but that would have been the case nonetheless. He didn't want to re-injure himself, but he had told Jet the truth. Something in him was calling to him to take his man to bed right away. It didn't feel like anything mystical or portentous. It could be something as simple as the simmering need beginning to grate on him. They'd kissed and made out enough that Tony had a small inkling of at least how amazingly good this was going to be. He stepped into the house, then stopped as he saw his big television sitting in the middle of the room, directly in front of the couch. His couch. 

“When you said 'a few things', Jet...” Tony began, amused and grateful. 

Jethro chuckled. “Yeah. Mighta understated the case a bit.” He rubbed the back of his neck a little, nervous about the reaction. 

“I like it. The stuff fits here. Just like I do. Now. What do you need to do right now?” He glanced around, wondering if there was some sort of 'coming home' ritual. 

“'Parently, you.” Jethro replied in his usual brusque way. However, his eyes were bright and filled with a warm amusement that stirred something in Tony. “C'mon. Let's get you up into my bed. We'll see what we do from there. Y' want a beer?” 

“No, I'm fine, I think.” Tony strode over to the stairway, heading up to where he was sure Jethro's room is. He was already loosening his tie, sliding it along his neck slowly, making each movement deliberate. He wasn't necessarily intending to affect his lover, it just seemed like the thing to do. He laid his jacket across the back of a chair, sensing Jethro coming up behind him. He began to undo the buttons on his shirt, but strong hands wrapped around his body from behind, batting his down. 

“Lemme do that, Tone.” Jet undid a couple buttons, stroking the skin beneath, and Tony shuddered happily. He forced out a whisper of a breath, enjoying the simplicity of his touch. “Ya like?” In response, Tony simply nodded. Jethro moved his hand down, unfastening a few more buttons, repeating the process. This time he exposed enough skin to twist at Tony's nipples, and Tony, already sensitized to the touch and thrum of Jethro's skin against his, felt his knees buckle slightly. 

“Move to the bed, please.” He tried to direct them there. “Please?” Jethro had already begun moving them in that direction. Tony sighed in relief and began unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom, letting Jethro keep his hands on him. He stood now facing the wall on the other side of the bed, shins pressed up against the edge. “Gonna fall over. Not from weakness.” He felt the need to clarify, and grabbed one of Jethro's hands, pulling it down to palm at his crotch. “Feel that. I've been so hard for you since we sat and cuddled … inside.” He hesitated to even mention their mental meeting, having the ingrained paranoia of both the wizard and the undercover agent. “Been so fuckin' hard. It hurts, Jet. I want you so bad I'm weak in the knees.” 

“I know, Tone. I know. Wanna take you good. Wanna split you wide.” Tony felt his magic swirling, and sighed. It felt so good to hear that. To know he was affecting another human being so strongly. He sighed again, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out. His phone case slid off his buckle, and he caught it with ease, stuffing it into his pants pocket. He was running on autopilot, all his conscious attention focused on the hands moving along his body. He was about to reach down to unfasten his placket when Jethro began doing so himself. “Let me, lover. Let me.” Tony nodded again, anxious for something to do with his hands. He began running light, finger-soft touches across Jethro's already bare arms, leaning back into the shudder when Jethro responded. 

“I wish you could feel how my magic is responding to you, Jethro. I wish you could know that it's sparking at your touch. It's swirling around me, dancing along my skin like this...” He dappled his fingers up and down Jet's arms lightly, teasing the hair on his skin, making goosebumps form. “It's almost singing a song to you. It's serenading you, telling you how you make me feel. Since you can't hear it, can't feel it, I gotta tell you. I gotta tell you that it's like – it's like – I can't describe it...” By this point, Jethro had his pants undone and on the floor, and was teasing him, avoiding touching his hard cock, but brushing feather-soft touches around the area then backing away. “You fucking cocktease.” He grinned, and turned himself in Jet's arms, sliding his arms up around his neck to kiss him stupid. 

He slid his tongue inside his mouth, swept it around and kept it moving in a rhythm dictated by the magic swirling around him. He groaned happily, cupping one hand to the back of Jethro's silver-topped head, lowering the other to undo Jethro's slacks. He fiddled and fussed for a long moment before he just quit messing around. He pulled away from the kiss, and pulsed a small amount of magic into his fingertip, whispering a single Norse word that worked like the old D & D 'knock' spell, undoing fastenings and locks. Jet's pants slid down his legs, and Tony grinned, returning to stab his tongue back in the other man's mouth. It wasn't too much more work to get his boxers from around his waist and to reach around, cup his ass and pull them flush. Tony kissed him until they were both out of breath, then pulled away, sitting down on the bed. He shucked his shirt and tossed it over vaguely in the direction of his pants. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks, motioning for Jet to do the same. 

Jethro complied in short order, his blue eyes blazing with the most intense emotions he'd seen from his already intense boss. His breath caught, and he laid back on the bed, spreading his legs wide to make room for the other man between them. Tony wasn't sure how this was going to work specifically yet, but he wanted Jethro, and Jethro wanted him. This wasn't just his magic pushing for something. It was something he'd been craving for years. He wanted to tell Jet so. “You know I've wanted you for years, right?” He gazed straight into Jethro's eyes, not pushing, not poking, but just enjoying the intensity he found. “I've wanted you forever. Couldn't bolster up the courage to say anything. I was afraid I'd get headslapped, fired and kicked in the ass. Not necessarily in that order. Like I said earlier, I love you. At least I'm sure that's what this is.” He was so glad to say it to the older man face to face, not just mind-to-mind. 

Jethro laughed, the smile remaining on his face as he scrambled up the bed to perch between Tony's knees. “Yeah. Get that. Not always the best at sayin' stuff, but you know that. You've known me for ten years. But I love you. Said that once, and I'll say it again. Love you. Need you, Tone.” 

Tony groaned happily, pulling the other man down to kiss him again. He ran a hand through silvery chest hair, scratching lightly at the skin around his nipples. Now it was Jethro's turn to groan. They returned to their former deep kisses, tongues dueling happily, then finding a gentle rhythm. Jethro pulled away after a while, and frowned. 

“Lemme get the stuff from the drawer.” He tilted his head toward the nightstand. When Tony nodded, he smiled, a dark powerful intent present that made Tony shake. He pulled out a condom and the tube of lube. “Ready for this, Tone?” Jethro asked, making Tony's heart warm with his solicitousness. 

“Oh, yeah.” Tony heard the arousal in his own voice: the deeper tone, the roughened timbre. It thrilled him that he could show his need so openly. He was no longer hiding behind stupid jokes and self-deprecating humor. At least, not with the person that mattered the most. 

Jethro slicked up a finger, teasing Tony by holding it out in front of him, waving it a little before pulling Tony's legs up slowly into the air. “Gonna fuck you. Stretch you first.” That was a given, but Tony understood. Jethro's mind was in step-by-step mode. It was part of what made the man an excellent federal agent. He could complete an investigation and keep all the i's dotted and the t's crossed. “You will tell me if you're hurtin', Tony.” When Tony opened his mouth to make a smartass remark, Jethro corrected himself. “Other than the sweet burnin' pain you get from havin' my cock up yer ass, of course, dumbass.” Tony snorted, and slowly pushed his ass higher in the air, wanting to give the man sufficient room to open him and fill him with himself.

“Got it, Boss.” Tony retorted insouciantly, and reached up with grasping hands to grab whatever part of Jet he could reach. He had a hold on the man's arm when he felt the soft nudge at his anus. He inhaled, intentionally attempting to relax his body to accept what Jethro wanted to give. He sighed the air from his lungs slowly, enjoying the teasing finger. Finally, Jethro breached him slowly, setting into a gentle rhythm similar to that of their kisses. He detached his arm from Tony's grasp, scooting forward to give Tony access to more skin. Tony obliged, reaching toward Jet's chest again, scratching long, light strokes on his skin, stopping the movements long enough to worry hardening nipples before returning to the long strokes. Finally, when Tony was about to snap at his lover or babble incoherently, Jethro fully seated his finger, slowly changing the rhythm to include little twists, crooks of his finger. Each move seemed calculated to widen the opening just that much more. With his free hand, he began playing around with Tony's balls, pausing only to lube the second finger.

Jethro slid the second one in next to the first, and Tony groaned. It felt so damn good he could scream.  _Probably would, here shortly._ He felt Jet scissor his fingers a little, then a little more, twisting them, moving them, pushing the longer finger further back until … “There it is...” Jethro felt the small bundle of nerves and massaged it, bringing bright stars to Tony's eyes. “Shhh, shhh...” Jethro's soothing words were the only notice he got that, yeah, he'd started screaming. He was loose enough, and he needed this. 

“Boss, please...” Hoarse and breathy, Tony's voice sounded almost like he did when he was struck with the plague. However, he knew the difference. This was him coming undone. This was him losing control. He hoped, belatedly, there wasn't any kind of electronics nearby. The possibilities of shattering something weren't something anyone really thought about when they were fucking. 

Jethro looked up sharply at Tony's words, maybe sensing the same similarity he did. However, he didn't seem to see anything amiss, so he yanked his fingers out from Tony's ass with a quick movement that made a funny sound. Tony might have laughed at it if he hadn't been too busy begging with eyes and words for something else. “Ya ready for this?” Tony nodded eagerly, words still streaming out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, Jet.. I'm ready. Need you, please. Fill me up, put yourself in me...” He lifted his head just enough to watch Jethro sliding the condom on his dick and slicking the whole thing up. “Ohhhh...” The sight of him preparing himself to enter Tony made the younger man groan deeply. “Neeed you, Jet. Need you.” 

Tony felt the blunt tip of his sheathed cock at his loosened anus. He shifted a little, hoping to make it easier for the man to enter him. Jet grinned, a feral smile that went straight through Tony and struck a few things around like little balls in a Pachinko machine. “Love you, Tone. Love you. Love seeing you all laid out and moving for me.” Tony recognized his own words, and huffed a quiet laugh. Jethro lowered his body over Tony's, moving his hips toward Tony's ass with an agonizing slowness. The tip slid in easily, and Tony groaned out his pleasure, thrusting his own hips a little, attempting to get more of Jethro inside himself. “Easy, babe. Easy. Got to do this gently. Don't wanna hurt you. Wanna make you fly. Send you to the stars...” Jethro kept whispering little things, pausing between to slide forward just a little more. Finally, fucking finally, he was fully seated. It burned, but it felt so damn good that Tony couldn't bring himself to care about the burn. “Feel good?” Jethro gazed down at him, worry hidden behind the lust and care. 

“Feels fucking fantastic, and you know it.” Tony gasped out, thrusting his hips. “Now move, bastard, or I'll flip you, ride you, and medical advice be dammed.” He growled, locked his hands behind Jethro's neck, and pulled him down for a kiss, bending his frame just that little more. Tony kissed him, not bothering with gentleness this time. This was a plunder. He poured all his frustration and need into the kiss, groaning out pleasure when Jethro finally got the hint and moved. He felt his magic swirl crazily and tried to gentle it, tried to channel it into something non-destructive. He sent it up into colorful, faerie-like swirls in the air, letting it dance, creating clouds of colorful dust and lights that sparkled around Jet's room like something Abby and Molly had decorated after too many Caff-Pows. Luckily, Jethro was too invested in the kiss and sliding into his body to notice the addition. He'd let the magic clean it up again, maybe after he got some good teasing mileage out of it. That thought made him grin a little, but it faded quickly. All rational thought did. He was too busy keening. Jet had found his prostate and was nudging it gently. He disengaged the kiss, growling at him. “More. Faster. Harder.” That was enough for Jet. Tony began ravaging his mouth again, nipping and licking. He pulled away from kissing to try to reach Jet's neck, worrying a spot there, aiming for low enough that even his polos would cover it. He shivered when Jet began to lave gently at the lobe of his ear, then bite at it. Jethro still moved in powerful thrusts, hitting the spot every few times. Tony spiraled further and further out of control, grasping at Jethro's shoulders with his fingers, keeping the older man in place flush against his skin until Jethro pulled back long enough to shift all his weight to one hand. In a skilled move, he flipped the lube open and spread a little slick on to the same hand, throwing the tube back down again. Tony gasped in anticipation as he realized his lover's intent. He was already near the edge. It wasn't going to take too much at all to send him flying over. 

Jet lowered the slicked hand down to Tony's cock, first playing with the base, then sliding his hand up it slowly, teasingly, only moving a little each thrust. Tony groaned. He was gonna kill him. He lifted his hips and dropped them down a little, trying to hint at what he wanted. Jethro ignored the hint, though Tony was sure he got it by the gleam in his eye. He just kept inching slowly upward, squeezing randomly, then pulling back. Tony tried to set up a counterpoint rhythm, but every time he did, Jet stopped the movement on his cock altogether. So, instead, Tony laid back, closed his eyes and just enjoyed the pulsing inside him, the slow torture on his cock, and Jethro's soft words slipping out occasionally. 

After what seemed forever, Jethro's hand finally reached the tip, and he gave up all pretense of playing around. He tightened his grip and began stroking his cock in earnest, making sure to twist slightly right as he got to the top. “Come for me, baby. Come for me...” Jethro whispered, the arm supporting him bending enough to lower himself a little more. “C'mon...” He pumped harder, faster, shifting to slam right into that spot every fucking time. Tony saw stars, felt his magic explode to cover the room in light and sparkles and shot his load so hard he blacked out for a very short while. He groaned happily and felt Jethro push into him a few more times, no longer worried about the right rhythm or angle. Tony tightened a little around him and Jethro gave his own deep groan, filling him, warming him pleasantly from the inside. 

Jethro gave a contented sigh, rolled off his lover, and wrapped himself around Tony, pulling him as close as he could possibly get. He looked around the room and blinked. “Tone? Somethin' you wanna tell me?” 

Tony just laughed, even after the gentle headslap. 


End file.
